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DJiJVOTiJD TO AURECULTUKE, HOKTICULTUKE, AND KTNUKBD AHTS. 



KEW SERIES. Boston, September, 1871. VOL. v.— xo. 9. 



R. P. EATOK & CO., PuBLisniRS, 

 Office, 34 Merchants' Row. 



MONTHLY. 



SIMON BRO-^TST, 



S. FLETCHER, 



THOUGHTS FOR SEPTEMBER. 



"Happy the ninii who flits the city throng! 

 Ev'ry tree, t-v'ry hruok that tlows along, 

 Ev'ry pebble within its sparkling brim 

 Preaches wisdom aiiii holiness to him." 



NOTHER summer has 

 departed, with 

 Its scorching 

 ^uns and parch' 

 ing droughts, 

 and the gorge- 

 ous livery which 

 '>ho had put on 

 has faded into , 

 wrinkled age. j 

 The year is , 

 on the wane. ' 

 Its fidness and I 

 \igor are gone. | 

 'It has reached the I 

 \^''t;i'! V^^^^^ ^tmnnit of the hill, and ' 



' ■ ' is not only looking, but 



descending into the valley be- 

 low." The grass and grain 

 harvests have been gathered in, while our great 

 Indian Corn harvest waits for more cheering 

 suns, and the fervid September days. In 

 robbing us of summer beauties, Nature does 

 not leave us without new objects of enjoyment. 

 Those who have eyes to see, and thoughts 

 to go out through them, and have also a little 

 prying curiosity, may find themselves in a 

 comparatively new world in September, peopled 

 by new forms in both kingdoms ; animated by 



Hi 



sights and sounds all peculiar to the month. 

 It is "the rejoicing month for joyful insects ; 

 it is the most populous and the happiest month. 

 The hens plash in the hedge, fish seek the 

 deep pools, forest fowl lead out their yourg', 

 the air is resonant of insect orchestras, each 

 one carrying his part in nature's grand har- 

 mony. September, thou art the ripeness of 

 the year! Thou art the glowing centre of the 

 circle!" 



Country life is a favorite theme of poets, 

 and it is country life that makes poets, — the 

 source from whence they draw their inspira- 

 tion and facts for illustration and instruction. 

 It is a pity that so many in the city cannot en- 

 joy it, and a pity that so many in the country 

 do not appreciate it. 



How much we need — do we not ? — some 

 ukase of a despot, some imperial mandate, 

 ordering a thousand or two at a time of dis- 

 contented farm rs into the city to labor in the 

 occupations there, — in murky counting-rooms, 

 overcrowded benches, or tied down to long 

 and tedious hours over the counters in grocerv, 

 dry -goods and shoe stores, or the business cf 

 numerous other callings! Travelling daily 

 over the same narrow and imsuggestive paths, 

 shut in from the fragrance of flowers, the 

 invigorating breezes of heaven aud the glow- 

 ing manifestations of an ever-present Deitv, 

 which are the common, every-day blessings of 

 the farmer! 



To gain life's chief end, usefulness and hap- 



