Saint Paul weekly Minnesotian., 1859-11-12
INDIAN SUMMER.
BY b. +. TAYLOR.

. v.. -r, BY B. +. TAYLOR.
Last year, seine one says, we had no In
dian Summer, for there came rain the sec
ond day of its blessed term and washed it a
away. Will it be true this year, as Of on
long to be remembered, when we sat in tn
open door in November surely Novembe
as they call it,-and birds were singing anon,
the yellow leaves, and the peach trees los
their reckoning, and gave signs of bud ant
blossom? Can we say of any little week o
meek sunshine as we did then ?-the year hal
paused to remember, and beautiful her mem
cries are. She recalls the Spring; how sof
the air And the Summer; how deep ant
warm the sky! And the harvest; how pill
Jared and golden the clouds And the rain
bows and the sunsets; how gorgeous are tn,
woods .,
Indian Summer is Natures sober, SECOND
thought" A veil of golden gauze trail.
through the air; the woods, in dishabille, ar,
gay with the hectic flushes of the Fail ant
the bright sum- relented, comes meekly bacl
again, as if he would not 80 to Capricorn
He has kindly look; he no longer dazzles one!
eyes out, but has sunset sOftness in his face
and fairly bushes at the trick he .leditated
Round, red sun rich ruby in the jewelry 0
God sets as big as the woods and ten acres
of forest, are relieved in the distance, are re
lieved upon the great disc-a rare device up
on glorious medallion The sweet south
wind has come again, and breathes softly
through the woods, till they rustic like ban
ner Of crimson and gold: and waltzes gaily
with the dead leaves that strew the ground
and whirls them quietly away sometimes, il
its frolic, over the fields and the fences, ant
into the brook, in whose little eddies they loi
ter on the way, and never get down to the
sea" at all.
And with the sun and the wind, here are
the birds once more. A bluebird warole:
near the house, as it used to do; the spar
rows are chirping in the bushes, and the
woodrobins flicker like flakes of fire through
the trees. Now and then, crimson or vel
low leaf winnows its way slowly down, through
the smoky light, and " the sound Of dropping
nuts is heard in the still woods The brook
that little while ago, stole along in the shad
ow, ripping softly round the boughs tina
trailed idly in its waters, now wrinkles all the
way, on its journey to the lake.
1t is the Saturday night of Nature and thu
Year. There is nothing more to be done
everything is packed up; the wardrobe o
Spring and Summer is all folded in those littlt
ruSsct and rude cases, and laid away here
and there, some of it in the earth, and som,
in the water, and some flung upon the bosou
Of the winds, and lost, as a2e say but aitci
all. no more lost than is the httle infant, whe
laid upon pillow, it is rocked and swung
this way and that, in the arms of careful
mother. So the dying, smiling Year, is al
ready 10 go.
But Low much better than we can ever tel
it, is this, which is of itself two stanzas of ar
Indian Summer -......s
There is time just when the frost,
Prepares TO pave old w WInters way,
When Autumn III q reycrle lost,
The mellow daytime dreams away;
When Summer comes in musing mind,
To gaze once more on hill and dell,
To mark how many sheaves they bind,
And see If all are ripened well.
With balmy breath she whispers low,
The dying flowers look up and give
Their sweetest incense ere they 90,
For her who made their beauties live.
She enters meath the woodlands shade,
Her zephyrs lift the lingering leaf,
And bear it gently where are laid
The loved and lost ones of its grief.
At last old Autumn, rising, takes
Again his scepter and his throne,
With bOisterOuS hand the tree he shakes,
Intent gathering all his own.
Sweet Summer signing, flies the plain,
And waiting Winter, gaunt and grim.
Sees mser Autumn hoard his grain,
And smiles to think it's all for him.
However it may be about Indian Summer
the glory of it is here; God has painted tn
woods with the pencils of His frost, and mi
| hon of burning bushes are glowing at tn
touch 1t is worth a journey cOuntrywar
| to see the woods, even as they were yestel
day, heavy with rain; here tree is a-damc
there bush is covered with coins Of yelloN
gold. There is a grove at the west of us, an
we were fortunate in getting under the lee {
it, there in the country; not stragglin
| thicket, but a full, rounded grove, with an c,
| quisitely defined outline; a rolume, in fact,
numberless leaves. TIE sun sets red, gres
and glorious behind that summer cloud, an
it is The most beautiful spot in the whole ht
rizon, for any thing to bid the world "goo
bye" in.
The Frost has been busy with those leave
of late, and has made the groves as georgeou
as an evening cloud, indeed-has made it loo
as if the sun were forever setting there, an
never quite departed; as if it were remembe
ing all the closes of the day it ever knew, an
blending them into one.
/ The foliage of the American woods enjoy
the grandest dyings in the world trans
into glory such as Christian men might pra
for.
By and by, that leafy cloud in the west
our country world, will shed its rustlir
shower of red and golden rain; and Il
group of the grove will lift its naked arms
winter heaven; and the November winds W
refuse to be comforted, as they moan throus
the woods; and we shall see the sun set
yond, through the brown lattice-work Of Il
branches. ...
But there will be pleasant thought eve
then. Last summer--say in June-when Il
shade was deepest, no stars were shinir
there, and hardly could the moonlight pa
the thatch of leaves, and let silver sha
through upon the green sward. Next winte
to him who stands within that desolate WOO
and looks upward, heaven will seem to be-
strange fruit of stars-such as ripens not
the garden of Hesperus. Stars will bud u
OH the branches; for he will look throu!
winter up to heaven; and the grove will
desolate no more.
Home and Heaven.
The sweetest type of Heaven is home
nay, heaven itself is the home for whose a
QUESTION we are to strive the most strongl
Home, in one form and another, is the gre
object of life 1t stands at the end of eve
days labor, and beckonS us to its bosom
Il.