New-York tribune., 1870-10-10
ncTnRER ONCE MORE.

to tighten tler own dSStSSHltHtS'
OCTOBER ONCE MORE.
1t must be admitted, whatever patriotic pangs
the confession may occasion, that with the
best political institutions in the world, we have
q most untrustwOrthy climate. The Spring OF
our poets is the English Spring, and not our
cold dilatory, and, we may even say, sloppy
season; our Summers Oftenest are either
too hot or too we; ; and our Winters, If too
cold are inexpressibly tedious, or, if "Open,"
not only occasion epidemics, but compel a
premature and not seldom a ruinOus vegeta-
ton. One season, however, we have, reaching
from the last of September partly into No
vember, which is probably as productive OF
delicious physical sensations as any in the
world. 1t is a season when, in the early cool
of the morning, we recognize the first breath
of Winter, which is yet afar of, and our
fevered frames welcome the invigOrating at
mosphere as the lips of travellers in Sahara
greet thankfully the longed-for cup OF cold
water. Bodily exertion is no longer wearily
oppressive; upon the contrary, there is an ex-
hilaration in the air which will not suffer us
to remain quiet AS we stalk past the varie-
gated panorama Of changing foliage, we begin
to ask ourselves if we too were not destined
for pedestrian exploits and the winning of
prize CUPS for ten miles now are easier of
accomplishment than one was under the old
solar radiance. Coming out of the Summer
enervated listless, and chronically lazy, we
find ourselves suddenly in the possession of
fresh muscular forces, and our enjoyment of
their use seems to be for time Unsuitable.
1t appears to have been settled by the poets,
if we may credit their elegiac writings, that
Autumn is a season of sadness and of I'M
availing regret. Mr.. Bryant in one of the
most charming of his minor pieces speaks of
these as "the melancholy days, the saddest of
" the year, We persist in sending our sighs
after the withered leaf "dOwn floating upon
" the clustering galen 1t is considered to be
a regular and proper thing to mourn for the
bhghted flowers blackening upon their stalks,
and to shed tear or two for " the last rose
" of Summer" We suspect that in this minor
mood there is q good deal Of cOnyentiOnality,
and, we may venture to say, little affecta-
ton. Upon clear October day, with its sky
cloudless from the rise to the set of sun, its
invigorating temperature and its variety of
color, the natural feeling is one of exultatiOn.
Mr. Emerson speaks of temper when walk
ing, in which he was almost afraid to think
how glad he was. 1t is thus that the fine Oc-
tober day, with that brlliancy which under a
higher temperature might sink us into
dreamy Incidence, makes every sense so keen
that each moment has its new and separate
pleasure. The animal spirits rather rise than
sink-unless, indeed, we are bent, like clever
boys of fifteen, upon being Obstinately Byron
ical the eye is clear to catch the magnificence
of the landscape and the glory of the sunset
the ear grows sharper for rural sounds as they
become fewer the fruitage is always cheer
ing lesson of the recuperative force Of Nature;
and the few flowers which the early frost has
spared have value which we did not accord
to the gay and populOus parterre.
1t is in these few weeks of the last genial
month of the year that we are able to exist
without over-consciOusness and prepense exer-
ton. All the others are seasons of wrapping
and unwrapping, of debates as to the kindling
of fires or the opening of windows, of decisions
between housekeeping and going abroad, of
watching the weather-glass and of cultivating
patience when inOpportune inclemencies mar
our little prospects. But October is, in the
main, not only trustworthy month, but its
moderation enables us to enjoy nature without
business. The serene sky, the clear atmos-
phere, the silver haze which fringes the wood
lands, the imperial splendor of the occident,
the rustic hustle of the harvest, the tree bend
ing under its load of ruddy and golden fruit,
each feature of the landscape, however mi
mute, greets us as we go forth and waits neither
for our scrutiny salutation. Our receptivity
becomes boundless just i'll proportion to its
quiescence, and the less we look for the more
do our eyes behold. We are, for a time, re-
leased from that constant care of the body
which is incompatible with calm and complete
sensation. Emancipated alike from the neces-
sty OF hurry or of lettering, We can 20 about
leisurely and take what the beautiful earth
offers, without spelling the feast by our hungry
importantly. We know well enough that these
pleasures, exquisite and invigorating as they
are, Will soon remain with US only as priceless
recolections There is the dull dreariDess Of
November, with all its leaden inertia, before
us ; but we do not care to anticipate. The
shortening days, replete with wealth OF solar
brightness, are too precious to be wasted in
unavailng forebodings Of their speedy and
final flight. 1t is enough that we have found
the relief which through swetering July and
slmmering August we cried ont for sincerely
and not energetieally, only because we had no
energy remaining, Once more We feel our