DKVOTED TO AGKlCDTiTUHE, HORTICUXTUKE, AND KINDRED ARTS. 



NEW SERIES. 



Boston, October, 1867. VOL. L— NO. 10. 



R. P. EATON & CO., Publishers, 

 Office, 34 Merchants' Row. 



MONTHLY. 



SIMON BROWK, 

 S. FLETCHER, 



Editors. 



OCTOBER. 



"On bill and field October's glories fade; 



O'er hill and field the blackbirds southern fly; 

 The brown leaves rustle clown the forest glade, 

 Where naked branches make a fitful shade, 



And the last blooms of autumn withered lie." 



NE of our most 

 beautiful wri- 

 ters, and one of 

 the most critical 

 observers of the 

 ever changing 

 aspects of Na- 

 ture, our old cor- 

 pondent, Wilson 

 Flagg, Esq., says "the 

 two most interesting peri- 

 ods to one who is in the 

 habit of associating some 

 agreeable sentiment with 

 the phases of nature, oc- 

 cur when the trees are 

 putting forth 

 their tender 

 leaves and flow- 

 ers in the open- 

 ing of the year, 

 and when they are assuming the variegated 

 hues that precede the fall of the leaf. lience 

 the spring and the autumn have always been 

 regarded as pre-eminently the two poetical 

 seasons, — the one emblemizing the period of 

 youth, the other that of old age. But to the 

 eye of the painter as well as the poet, do these 

 two seasons olTpr the "reatest attractions." 



"In the spring, while the leaves are burst- 

 ing from their hibernacles, and unfolding their 

 plaited forms, they exhibit a great variety of 

 tints, which are constantly changing with the 

 progress of their development. In autumn, 

 during a space of about two weeks, they pass 

 through another succession of hues, and this 

 change, connected with the fall of the leaf, has 

 given rise to many pleasing sentiments, which 

 have been woven into the poetry of all nations." 



All persons do not enjoy the same seasons 

 alike ; we cannot tell why. It can hardly be 

 peculiarity of temperament, for in many cases 

 those persons who are prone to look upon the 

 dark side of things, find their highest enjoy- 

 ment in nature in "the melancholy days, the 

 saddest of the year," of which Bryant sings. 

 Some prefer the month of May, when Nature 

 has burst away the shackles in which she has 

 long been bound, and all the vegetable world 

 is expanding into a new life. Some give June 

 the preference, when the air is redolent with 

 the perfume of flowers, while others prefer the 

 fervid heats of July, when the early harvests 

 crown the earth with their gladdening abun- 

 dance. 



The autumn, we must confess, does come to 

 the soul with a melancholy touch. While we 

 are silent in admiration of the praspects 

 afforded by every valley and hill-top witliin 

 our view, that admiration is tinged with a feel- 

 ing of sadness which we did not summon, and 

 which we cannot separate from the enjoyment 



