DEVOTED TO ^GRICUTiTUBB AND ITS KIJ^iTORED AB.TS AISTD SCIENCES. 



VOL. XII. 



BOSTON, OCTOBER, 18G0. 



NO. 10. 



XOrnSE, EATON & TOL^rAN, Proprietors. ^jT^n-Kr uwowivr TriTTmj FRED'K HOLBROOK, ) Associate 



0FfiCE....3i Mebchaxis' Row. SIMON BROWN, EDITOR. HENRY F. FRENCH, 1 Editors. 



CAIiENDAK FOR OCTOBER. 



"Solemn, yet beautiful to view, 



Month of my heart 1 thou dawnest here." 



CT OBER IS 

 again, and 



here 

 now 

 , we know that Au- 

 tumn has come in 

 good earnest. All 

 through September 

 there lingered a 

 memory of Sum- 

 mer. There were 

 warm suns, and 

 balmy airs, and 

 Ij green leaves, and 

 we could scarcely 

 realize that change and 

 decay were so near. But 

 with this month of Oc- 

 tober, there come such de- 

 cided tokens of another pres- 

 ence as to dispel all illusions, and we 

 may as well bid farewell to the warm 

 precincts of these cheerful days, nor 

 cast one longing, lingering look be- 

 hind. The cold, frosty mornings and ever short- 

 ening twilights are indications which we can- 

 not mistake. It seems but a few days since 

 the sun remained above the horizon an hour or 

 two after our evening meal — since little children 

 played "I spy," and "ball," out on the green, 

 till almost nine o'clock, and when the mother's 

 voice sought to gather the little flock under shel- 

 ter for the night, they said, "why, mother, it is 

 red in the west." Then in shaded lanes and qui- 

 et streets might have been seen the country youth, 

 his face beaming under his broad-brimmed hat, 

 sauntering slowly, with a muslin-robed damsel on 

 his arm<» Pleasant summer rambles, which care- 

 worn men and women will look back upon with 

 mournful pleasure some twenty years hence. 

 But the little children must not play out there 



these chill October nights, and it is quite too 

 cold for romantic evening walks. The listless 

 saunter is exchanged for a brisker pace, and the 

 broad-brimmed hat is hung on its peg to await 

 the coming of another season. 



The sad leaves are falling, too. Their gorgeous 

 colors will soon fade away, and the "evergreen 

 pine," the hemlock, spruce and firs, will come in- 

 to repute. Tliey have not made much show among 

 the elms and maples this summer. But modest 

 merit is sure to succeed at last, and persistent ef- 

 fort wins the day. 



Yes, the sad leaves are falling, and few are so 

 thoughtless as to witness their fall without some 

 mournful, and yet salutary musings. Perhaps you 

 followed some friend to the grave on an October 

 day like this, many years ago, and you have never 

 forgotten how the leaves rustled under your feet 

 as you moved along toward the old red gate of 

 your village grave-yard, nor how, as you passed 

 under the great ti-ee that grew at the entrance, 

 two or three yellow leaves fluttered slowly down, 

 and rested on the pall-covered bier. But you 

 thought it was a more fitting time to restore dust 

 to dust, than if the world were just blooming into 

 spring. 



But to those who have no special and person- 

 al associations connected with this season of the 

 year, it always speaks lessons of earth's changes 

 and earth's frailty — lessons trite and oft-repeated, 

 yet ever new and impressive. 



"I look to nature, and behold 



My life's dim emblems rustling round, 

 In hues of crimson and of gold — 



The year's dead honors on the ground ; 

 And, sighing with the winds, 1 feel, , 



While their low pinions murmur by. 

 How much their sweepini? tones reveal 



Of life and human destiny." 



But Autumn's tones are not au minor. There 

 are other voices that speak to us, besides those 

 which tell of decay and death. There is a bracing 

 atmosphere which brings strength to the enervat- 

 ed frame, and which makes us feel like walking 



