DEVOTED TO AQKICULTURB AND ITS KJNDRED ARTS AND SCIENCES. 



THOUGHTS ABOUT OCTOBER. 



The hemlock broods above its rill, 

 Its cone-like foliage darker still, 



■While the white birch's graceful stem 

 And the rough walnut receive 

 The sun upon their crowded leaves, 



Each colored like a topaz gem ; 



And the tall maple wears with them 

 The coronal which autumn gives, 



The brief, bright sight of ruin near. 



The hectic of the dying year. Whittiee. 



EAUTIFUL as this 

 month is, it brings 

 us frequent signs of 

 approaching decay. 

 Frosts have already 

 touched many plants 

 too rudely for their 

 tender structure to 

 bear, and they have 

 fallen powerless be- 

 fore them, bowed to 

 the ground, or their 

 leaves stripped and 

 scattered about. 



finds a keen pleasure in the evening's rest and in- 

 terchange of thought. Happy, indeed, if they 

 have not discarded the open Jire, and can sit be- 

 fore its friendly blaze and think, and build castles, 

 and toast the feet, and hear sweet apples sputter 

 while roasting on the hearth ! Well do we know 

 what objections are raised by the women to such 

 a source of employment — but they have little 

 weight, compared with the real, substantial, health- 

 ful influences of an opmfire ! 



grander march of storm and wind. She says, — 

 "Beautiful, glorious October ! thrice welcome 

 art thou, with thine in\igorating air, thy days of 

 ripened sunshine and of busy, joyous labor ! 



The farmer is alert each morning, gathering 

 with satisfaction and thankfulness, — let us hope, 

 — the bounteous reward of many a day of toll. 

 Perhaps he is somewhat disappointed in the yield 

 of his potato field ; or his crop of wheat is not 

 quite up to his expectations ; but he finds his loss 

 cancelled by some unexpected gain, and does not 

 grumble ; or my model farmer does not do any- 

 thing so undignified, to use no stronger word. I 

 hold that either farming teaches the wisdom of 

 patience, or that very few who do not possess that 

 virtue, continue as practical agriculturists. 



But the report of a gun and its echo, tell us 

 that all country lovers, are not farmers. Poor 

 little bird! he has gone to find in the better coun- 

 try, the melodious trill of his summer months. 



Happy, noisy children tread the tinted leaves 

 beneath their feet, or gather them with bright ber- 

 ries, 'the golden rod, the aster in the wood, the 

 Warm and splendid } yellow sunflower by the brook,' on their rounda- 

 days are followed by | bout way for nuts. . And yet, when I think, it is 

 cool nights, when the i j,^ coming home that most children gather these 

 family is drawn about i things, in lieu of the store they expected to find, 

 the hearthstone, and j And now I recall a song, and the thought comes, 

 how often do we, older children, find our hands 

 filled with baubles in place of worthier good. 



Autumn is the emblem of beneficence. The 

 other seasons, I fancy, have some personal end to 

 serve, some living to do on their own account. 

 Old winter really enjoys 'getting up a time' with 

 his artiller)' of sleet and snow, and chuckles at the 

 discomfiture of storm-tossed nights. Spring is 

 proverbially coquettish, while passionate summer 

 vents his life in fervid outpourings ; but autumn. 



In speaking of OCTOBER, we are glad to give gracious, tender mother, looks down with loving 

 way to the glowing utterances of a friendly lady's 1 eyes, and gives whispering benedictions on the 

 pen, — one who is always inspired with Nature, sons of men. 

 whether in her soft and quiet moods, or in her i Were the experience new to us, how wonder- 



