Virginia free press. (Charlestown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1832-1916, 1851-11-20
MISCELLANY.
FtPm he Boston 0.ire Bdanes.
AUTUMN.

Saui sweet season w hat solemn and
tender reedllections cluster around thee -
With eTery changing leaf that futters in the
breeze, falls some cherished memory upon
our spirit Path.
Il is we'll that we should feel peculiarly
tchder and solemn in this melancholy time
--for lot the artist, with glowing pencil,
tinge as he may the rudy Bacchus god Of
imagination and call him autumn, depicting
him wish hale, aorid health, aud the broad
sensHoas nile of pleasure, still the season,
with its chilling breathe and cold, pale skies,
is melancholy.
The trecs-poor naked things-how sor-
rowful they seem, finging upwards their bare
brown arms in the keen air They have
given Us eur abundance shed the fruit that
Systematically clothed them in purple and in
gold, upon tie changing earth, and now they
are farming black, and whitening at the fros-
ty touch of.Autumn.
The flowers in my garden, too, are paling,
dropping and dying. They turn their sick.
y heads to the sun, but alas III their very
hearts the boar frost is nesting, gnawing a
way their gentle lives, SO when the kindly
glande of their good physician fails softly
upon them, there is no longer vitality IN
their beautiful forms
They are dying and so arc many gentle
ones Of earth outwardly lovely, like those
sweet flowers, the angel Of death is shadow.
ms them with his broad wings, and they are
swiftly passing away
1 know Of one who reposes upon the couch
of his last sickness Stricken in early man
hood with that fell destroyer, consumption,
no earthly skill can rescue him from the
grave,
So lovely in life, so moral in example, so
gentle of heart it seems strange that he
should know the constant pangs Of unrelent-
ing, Implying disease. But Gods ways arc
not as our ways
Ever by his side stands true and tender
/ wife. whose soft hands smooth bis feyered
brew. and whose whisperings of affection fall
gently upon his spirit,
He has sweet blue,eyed babe, ali only
pne, whose artless prattling, like the nIurmur
pf angels, awakeus new love as often as it
falls upon lis heart.
Does it not seem to him, at times, hard to
burst the earthly bonds to leave his best
los8d to travel the weary world path alone I
Poor Edward, child Of suffering, soon ia
triumph thy voice shall join with the hosts
pf the redeemed around the throne Of God
Memories Of the dead awaken anew in the
Autumn season.
How. many a mother exelaims, 81 last au.
tunn a bright-eyed babe nesting upon my
bosom-this autumn he sleeps calmly upon
tho eIoa lap Of earth And the wife, with
the warm tears Of grief believing her pale
checks, whispers last autumn. how fondlg
d leaned upon the arm Of one whom I loved
ntxt iomy God-now these crisp leaves cir
Gle about bis narrow grave. All ME, my
heart seems breaking at times r
And the father, bowling his gray hairs Be
caAse be beholds one seat at the table vacant
and one chair on the hearth stone lone and
|, empty, mourns in thedesolation Of the spirit
I-AOh, my son, my son J. last aRtumn joy
onsI fu..!l Of life, truly the light Of our eyes
heasherreo Us With his merry smiles, his in
nosent nirth nsw, alas, he lies know POI
who're Some little nsourd IN that golden
bus tfeacherous land, some neg.ees ga hiiioek
ro3nd which none but strangers tread, solo'
| hissdear form in its close embrace.
And the brother, too, murmers-S my
sweet sister, how she bounded along this
pasa chasing the whirling red leaves, her
ringing laugh echoing over the fields, hel
-reaIchseks and ruby lips bearing the glow
inssinpress ofjoyous health This autumn
ofalnsious evenings, the shining moonbeam:
/ Glitter upon the marble head stone, and thl
mas e browning at the foot Of her grave
Andlto Ill this sad season brings tender
ness! Yet sorrow Of heart, for who does no
lnSnsn some dear departed friend ?
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