FIELD NOTES IN SEED TIME. 223 



corresponding to their eariler merriment and gay- 

 ety. Then homewUrd in couples they go, singing 

 under the bright harvest moon, in company with 

 those pale little seranaders, the crickets, that pul- 

 sate and chirp, Curate, curate, curate! in perfect 

 time, like a host of violinists under the direction 

 of a mysterious and invisible leader. It is a 

 monotonous and melancholy strain that fits itself 

 to the fading year, yet soothing and restful vsrithal, 

 like a lullaby that sings the retiring world to sleep. 



