NOVEMBER. 287 



have taken the place of verdure. The walks 

 are unkempt and uninviting : and as these sum- 

 mer friends of ours are no longer affluent and of 

 flourishing estate, we, of course, desert them. 



The country presents, in its silence and 

 gloom, a ghastly scene to those accustomed to 

 towns and dissipation. To them there is some- 

 thing frightful in its solitude; yet, to the re- 

 flective mind it is, and has been at all times 

 grateful. In its sternest moods, it presents 

 solemn thoughts, and awakens solemn feelings. 

 Great and philosophic minds have in all ages 

 borne but one testimony to the charms of its 

 quietude. In its profound repose the mourner 

 seeks to indulge the passion of grief; to it the 

 projector of some great work in art or lite- 

 rature flies to mature his labour, and, while 

 hidden from all eyes, to achieve that which 

 shall make his name familiar to all ears ; and 

 to the poet, what is more affluent of imagina- 

 tive stimulus and precious suggestions than 

 strolls through wood-walks, mountain-glens, and 

 along wild sea-coasts, at this season ? The 

 universal stillness is felt through the whole soul. 

 Every object is exaggerated, and yet recom- 

 mended to the eye through the media of gloom 

 and mist; and. while the eye, unseconded by 

 mind, would discern nothing but dreariness, he 

 finds something congenial to the loftiest moods 



