DKVOTSJD TO AGRICULTURE, HORTICULTURE, AJNTD KINDRED ARTS. 



NEW SERIES. Boston, November, 187 1. VOL. v.— NO. 11. 



R. P. EATON & CO., PtnLisHERS, 

 Office, 34 Merchants' Row, 



MONTHLY. 



SmoX BROWN, ; F„™o„, 

 8. FLETCHER, \ ^»itors. 



NOVEMBER ASPECTS. 



Oh, knew he but his happiness 1 of men 

 ThL' happiest lie, who far from public rage, 

 Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd, 

 Drinks the pure pleasure of the Rural Life. 



'J7iomso)i\- Seasons. 



The Gloom.3 of November. 



(•VKMBER winds 

 a-e chilly, and 

 November skies 

 are quite often 

 dark and gloo- 

 my. Dead leaves 

 drift m the breeze, and 

 cuddle under the stone 

 walls, as if to hide away 

 from the merciless blast. 

 The llowers have faded, 

 an<l hang upon their with- 

 ered stems in the garden, 

 fit emblems of the pro- 

 gress and decay of man, 

 whose days have been ex- 

 tended into old 

 age. The air is 

 no longer reso- 

 nant with the 

 songs of birds. 

 They have gone to distant lands and milder 

 skies, there to find the food they need, and 

 to gain strength to come again to their breed- 

 ing haunts, and enjoy another season of nup- 

 tial delights. Pinching frosts are on the brown 

 herbage in the morning, and little pools in the 

 highways are covered with a glassy surface. 



The crow sits on the bare tree top, cawing to 

 his family in the wood, and in the gloomy af- 

 ternoon, tired geese up in cloud-regions, honk 

 to the lagging train to drop into some far- 

 seen lake for food and a night's rest. The 

 domestic animals gather about the yards, im- 

 patiently wating to be admitted to their ac- 

 customed byre. The afternoons are cloudy, 

 dismal and short. Night comes quick, and 

 shuts in the scene. 



So, too many think and feel of November. 

 Too many cherish the feeling, and give it new 

 strength every year. 



We would not say that this feeling is strange 

 and unnatural. To the sensitive and observ- 

 ing mind, the general decay of vegetable mat- 

 ter all about us, the leafless trees, the bare 

 fields, the absence of the birds and insect life, 

 the cessation of a thousand pleasant sounds 

 which animated summer life, is a change which 

 will materially affect any reflecting mind. 



All this, however, should not so disturb ouy 

 feelings and views as to settle upon them a 

 gloomy pall, and shut out the thousand pleas- 

 urable prospects and sensations which still re- 

 main. We must remember the sentiment of 

 old Father Cotton, that, 



Tf solid happiness we prize, 

 In our own breast the jewel lies, 

 Nor need we roam abroad. 



When the "good time," so long anticipated, 

 has come, no higher type of "peace on earth" 

 may be found any where, than in 



