The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1845-11-22
From the New York Sunday Mercury. &
SHORT PATENT SERMON.
The following lines will compose my text:

t
The following lines will compose my text:
Thus E u that is isiresi,
And sweetest and rarest,
Must shortly be severed, and call for tear,
Then let each emotion W
Be warm with devotion, s4
And We will be thoughtful, for Autumn il here.
My hearers--We are now as nearly in the mid
die OF Autumn as you can put your finger. We
are diving upon the third wheel Of the year; but
so near the hub that we scarce can appreciate the
rspidity with winch we roll may say, we sit
thoughtful in these calm still days--like parcel
Of melancholy frogs upon a rock 10 the centre Of
some peaceful pond, surrounded with scum Of
green, yellow, crimson and gold. Old Time
hobbling by, as il were, upon cruteles; or, as my
Friend Tom Todd would say. crawling along like
crippled crab-seems tired and wesry; and fsin
would rest himself preparatory to his winters
work. Let US suppose the venerable gentle man
with the forelock has hung his sythe upon tree,
set his hour gl IS upon stump, and he s enjoying
himself at hall length by the road side, as thought he
had resigned his office in fl of laziness.
My friends-while Time is thus taking neasy.
let us look around, consider. observe, and moral
ize. The leaves in the book of nature are becom-
ing brown like those in an old ancestral Bible; and
yet II hath its beauties. It's pictures retouched
with glowing colors, as OF Fancy's own pencil;
and they seem to brighten at every gaze When
look upon the wan features of the feds--take a
survey of the devasted dominions OF Flora and
then behold in what gorgeous apparel woodlands
are arrayed-r can't help thinking that some spirit
hand has collected all our bright and favorit flow
ers thrown them into cauldron, boiled them to-
gether and poured the dye stuff upon every grove
and forest!-yes, and besprinkled the whole with
the powder of last Summer rsnbows, How calm!
how quiet !-hnw beautiful! The skies ave as
sumed mare tranquil hue--the atmosphere is
milder than Of late the distant have donned bluer
msntles-heaven touches the hill tops nearer home
and the sunsets!- the golden sunseis!--glorious
sunsets--oh they are enough TO make man hol-
Ter for somebody to bold HIM by the coat tail
My yiriends-How silent are the halls Of nature!
The voice of the beast and the song of the birds
are hushed. The dying leaf looses its fral hold,
and fickers down t. the dead without murmur
The very breeze comes holding its breath; and the
minstrel winds wander silently through the woods,
as il they wist not what to sing; or perchance tu-
ming their harps to low and mournful melodies.
Nothing is heard, save the distant lowing of COW,
| the bass g"mblng of bull, or the shril +" ke-ndn"
OF the sheep boy with his salt dish. The squirrel
scolds at man, his moester, as he drops his nut up
on the leaf-woven carpet, and clippers as he scam.
pers up the hickory to replace his loss; while the
congregated cows move off and say nothing in ac-
eordance with the solemnty of the OCCASION
Where now the joys, the beauty and the life OF
summer? Gone! The flowers have faded--the
singing birds have flown to warm clime--a few
butterflies with their summer toggery on, still lin
ger about the blue-blossomed weeds by the road
sde--and poor grass hopper st cries for assis-
tance upon the half withered mullen. But these
must soon go with the rest; for time flies, and every
thing else (even toads) must fly withit. ~
| My hearers-Let us be thoughtful for Autumn
is here. Yes; it is here, both in sober and in a
golden guise. Some think it is the huttermilk
brought by the churning of the past seasons but I
consider it the rich cream that has risen upon the
milk of summer. Atany rate it affords The cream
of contemplation ahd therefore let US make use of
it. Let the young consider that they must shortly
be severed from call that is fairest and sweetest
and rarest'-that the blossom of hope and Joy
which they now 80 ardently cherish, and if not
plucked by the hand of death, must fade and all
in the autumn Of life; and that such a change will
make them roll up their eyes in astonishment, and
cry aloud, Hhat ger bout there? You men, in
the summer OF your existence-think now that the
few posies that garnish your pathways will soon
be picked by the frosts of age and thrown upon
the tomb; and so prepare yourselves jog with
out mourning al their loss. And you, old folks.
whose autumn is far advanced-look upon the
beauties of the dying foliage, and also upon the
spendors that surround the setting sun as she sinks
into the sepuchre of highland think of an eter-
nal heaven, everlasting happiness, perpetual peace
-" and nothing else" So mote il be.
-.~ Dow, JR.