The Alleghanian. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1859-1865, 1861-10-24

TFrnm the American Agriculturist.
October.
uAll through the night

Gall through the night
The subtle frost hath piled its mystic art,
And in the day the golden sun hath wrought
True wonders and the wings OF morn ana
even
Have touched with magic breath the changing
leaves.
And now. as wanders the dilating eye
Athwart the varied landscape circlng far,
What porpeousness, what blazonry, what
pomp
Of colors burst upon the ravished sight y
What change has come over the face
of Nature. The waving forest, SO lately
robed In deepest green, has assumed the
gorgeous coloring of October. The foil
age does not fade but brightcns into death.
The last days of the leaves are their best,
in beauty, with violet, pink, scarlet and
crimson, as if their life blood were oozing
from every pore Nothing but observa-
ton could teach us that all this brilliancy
and glory heralded death. 1t would seem
that they were entering upon new life,
instead of being pushed off the stage to
make way for new generation.
The year has eliminated in field and
forest, and the farmer is gathering in his
harvest. The first frosts have come, and
you see the small hoar crystals glitterfng
in the morning sun upon the grass and
along the fences The pumpkin and
squash vines are the first to feel its power,
and the broad leaves droop and turn black
as the sun comes up, leaving the yellow
globes and the crook-necks all exposed
The farmer hardly knew how rich he was,
until the frost cleared away the luxuriant
mass of foliage. Now-the potato patches
and the edges of the corn field and the
gardens are yellow with the raw material
of pumpkin pies and Thanksgiving. The
orchards feel the chill breath of the frost,
and you hear the apples dropping under
all the trees, as if seeking warmer quar-
tiers in the thick grass beneath the branch
An orchard loaded with fruit, and ri
pening in the October sun, is one of the
finest sights in the country. Here is a
tree blushing in every bough with the
crimson fruit, and there they hang In long
yellow punches waiting for the basket
The winter fruits are not harmed by the
early frosts, and they will adhere to the
branches until it is time to remove them
By hand The finishing touches to the
flavor of the late fruits are given in the
last few days of the season. If plucked
too early, they shrivel, and do not ripen
well in the cellar or fruit room.
With the harvest moon come apple pa
rings and huskings, words full of meaning
to the old men, if not to the boys. We
see now the farmers ample kitchen, and
the bushel baskets heaped with apples,
and the merry group of lads and lassies,
seated for their work. There were at
least dozen of them gathered from the
neighbors, to lend helping hand in pre-
pairing ''the apple sass" 1t is now called
apple butter, and by some very proper
people "sauce" A barrel, at least, was
to be prepared from the green, or rather
fresh pared sweet apples, and large stores
of dried apples were to be laid up for the
Winter use. The head of the household,
as was meet, used the pairing machine with
three-tined fork and knife that cut the
skin as thin as wafer. The pared apples
fell with wonderful rapidity into large
tub, and were thence distributed among
the young folks, to be halved, quartered,
cored and strung upon twine about two
yards in length, for drying. The strings
of apples, as they were finished, were put
upon hooks in the ceiling, or upon poles
ready to be removed in the morning to the
sunny side of the house, where they hung
in graceful festoons, the special delight of
wasps and flies. With huge pan of APP
pies between young couple, the work
went on merrily, if not rapidly; jokes
flew back and forth, sometimes ompha-
sized with apple seeds, and sometimes with
something softer. Rustic awkwardness
in company was happily overcome, for
there was place for the hands and the
hands had something to do. The tongues
were unioosed, first about the work and
the company, and then about something
that might have been very hard work un-
der other circumstances. Wholes in the
pan were halved and disconsolatc halves,
out of it, were eventually madc whole
Work and wooing went together in those
good old times, when the kitchen was bet
ter known than the parlor, and the pres
cnce of the sold folks at home" did not
spoil the freedom and froiics of their
children.
The last apple being pared, and the last
festoon hung up duly in its place, there
was a resort to fortune telling. The rind
of an apple being passed three times round
the head and dropped, invariably gave the
first letter in the name of the successful
lover As the coil Of the rnd almost
always made an S, or something that
squintea that way, it was easy to worm
the secret out of the most bashful swain.
and point out him his intended Sarah or
Sophia. These prophecies of the farmer
freside sometimes turned out alarminelv