Fremont weekly freeman. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1850-1853, 1851-11-01
Autumn.

Autumn is again upon US, is ushcred
in with fragrant breezes, and with all the
beauty and harmony of gentle summer. As
yet no chilling blasts have come to mar the
beauty of the wood and plain. or still the songs
of the thousand vocasts who swell their hymn
OF praise in the dewy eve. As yet all nature
is clad in the pleasing green of summer, and
the eye may wander far in vain, in search of
the change attributed to Autumn. And vet
that change is at hand. The death knell of
Summer has been sounded, and few more
| suns will mark the great decay, the death OF
! all that now looks beautiful, A few more
suns, and the feathered warblers, whose sill
very songs delight us, as they come fraught
with natures own musc,-wil have flown to
the far off sunny South The insects that give
then concerts in the deep of night, will have
ceased; some forever-some to awaken again
in the dawn of Spring. How many Of US will
ever hear their voices again? In this decay,
in this sleep of nature, how many of us may
sleep. also, that sleep from which we never
wake within the bounds Of time How many
or how few, God only knows There is some
thing very solemn. pleasingly solemn, in the
contemplation of the changes of Autumn
To see each leaf and blade losing one hue and
assuming another, clinging to tie last to that
which bore it,-as if afraid of tina: dissolution
which assuredly awaits it-seems to uSa type
of frail mortality-of man, when the hand of
death is on him-when he feels he is chang
ing-when he sees the gravey yawn TO receive
all him that will ever perish, yet cling to life
till the vital is extinct, and he falls to rise no
more.
How wonderful are the laws of nature
what lessons in the minutest things before us.
Who can contemplate the eternal law or order
which rules this vast creation from the
mightiest TO the minutest thing which sets and
holds in motion worlds, and sends forth each
blade at the appointed time-and not be made
sensible, not be struck by that Almighty Pow
er which makes this mighty law. How regu-
lar are the seasons in their eternal roundsi-
Each year is an age-each season a stage, an
epoch fruitful of its kind and true to
the grand design.
Spring comes to us full of smiles and Joy:
everything seems elate that it hath escaped
the icy hand of winter; and the very streams
seem laughing as they go dancing on with
their gentle murmurs; the very birds sing
more Joyous than in other seasons. and there
IS freshness about all nature, truly inspiring.
Spring may be likened TO youth-Summer,
to the prime of life-Autumn to the wane-
and Winter. to old age and dissolution. As
there is something inspiring in the freshness,
the first budding of Spring, so there is some
thing pleasant but solemn in the contempla-
ton of Autumn: pleasant to behold the fruits.
the toll of season, the golden harvest, ready
to repay the labor of the husbandman sol
emn, that it is the decay of the year-that na-
ture is being stripped of her beautiful appar-
el-that it is preparatory to the death Of the
year.
In musing on Autumn-our mind invaria-
bly, reverts to the Autumn of life, with the
thoughts of how few of us will stand in that
point of time, whence we can look back to the
middle age, and mark ourselves threescore
and ten. But let death and change come
wnen they may, we should ever be prepared
to meet them-in the Spring-in the Sum
mer-or in the Autumn of life.
1.-THE Casket