74 September. 
glorious harvest moon. At no season does Cynthia 
shine so brightly as in harvest. Kirke White justly 
says :— 
‘ ‘ Moon of harvest ! herald mild 
Of Plenty, rustic labour’s child, 
Hail! oh, hail! I greet thy beam, 
As soft it trembles o’er the stream, 
And gilds the straw-thatched hamlet wide, 
Where innocence and peace reside ! ” 
When the year began in March, September was the 
seventh month of the year—hence its name, Septem¬ 
ber. It is now inappropriate, as the year commences 
two months earlier. Our Saxon ancestors called it 
Gerst-monat or Barley Month, from gerst, barley. 
The decline of the year has now commenced. , The 
leaves of the trees are donning their golden and tawny 
tints. The orchard trees are laden with pears, plums, 
and apples. The hedgerows are brightened with the 
scarlet berries of hips, haws, and honeysuckles ; as 
well as with the bright fruit of the privet, the thorn, 
the elder, and the blackberry. The harvest is over, 
and we cannot but feel thankful to the Giver of all 
good things for it, and for the many bounties which 
we now so freely enjoy. 
