The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1873-10-18

How gently, softly-with look Of a
fearful farewell lingering in voice and
mein-over the mountains come the foot
steps Of October Beautiful exceedingly
she is, with that touching tingc Of sadness
about her, which is ever beauty's most i'm
pressiye charm. How gently, softly, into
the presence of the night, steals her song
Of sorrow II trembles with hushed ten
deness of tone through the aisles and bow
ers Of the forest, where it seems to whisper
prophecy Of coming nakedness and des-
olation. 1t flows with mournful cadence
along the meadows where the stream will
soon be chilled into silence, and lose their
babbling merriment, aud all the flowers
will fade into dust and ashes, whilst the
twinkling rays Of the far off stars gather
into tear-drops as they touch the current
Of its low, sad melody.
October does not come to us this season
with the wild lamentations of equinoctial
storms, with disheveled locks streaming on
excited winds, with foods Of tears, and an
agony Of sorrow which spreads havoc
around it as she sometimes does, but softly,
gently over the mountains, with head bow
ed down and hands crossed upon her bos-
ON, save when she gathers up her robes,
upon which, here and there, the roypl
tints Of autumn begin to glow, to shake of
the floating vapors There are no tears
in her eyes, but the mists are gathering
there, which tell of tears to come.
She looks around upon the field and
forest, with sweet smile of tender pity
pity for the wild winds and biting frosts
which are soon to strip them Of their sum-
mer glory; and as we look around with
her, our heart beats in sympathy with hers,
for we know that though she pours her
corn and her fruit, as she passes into the
garners Of the husbandmen, poverty want
suffering, hunger and cold, will follow in
her footsteps, for the destitute children Of
humanity. The surly blasts of November
will find their way into many a stricken
homestead, upon whose hearthstone no frt
will be kindled-where poverty sits creak
ing its dismal monotony upon household
affairs, around which are gathered helpless
ones, who cry for bread, and for the poo
pittance which would shield them frou
the pinching cold-hungry in the mids
of oyerfowing abundance cold in til,
midst of warmth, oppressive to the fortu
nate sons Of earth, denied the cotnmor
comforts of life, whilst so many are bur
dened with its luxuries.
Well may the beautiful mild-eyed DC
tober-with her heart ever throbbing witt
tenderness and pity-sigh and weep a
she looks behind her and sees who, an,
what are following her so closely-th
lean, lank, wild-eyed, pale and ghostl
crew of human miseries. And yet in thi
world there is enough for all If it wer
properly distributed.
"Alas for the rarity
Of Christian charity,
Under the sun.
This is the refrain that the melanehol
October seems to utter as she yields he
place in the circle of the year to "grin
visaged November"
Bryant sings that he would die in June
in the midst of the fnllness of the sum
mer's glory and promise-with birds +
sing his requiem and flowers to deck hi
grave, but we would like to leave thi
world when our years have been number
ed, when
" The melancholy days have come,
The saddest of the year
We would like to depart with October
that the falling, faded leaves might b
strewed upon our fresh made grave, by tn
wandering winds which would sigh a sa
farewell as they passed The snow woul
come and lend its white covering to it
nakedness, and silence might brood owe
it as our image faded from the memorie
of men.
Yes We would have the deeply ten
der, fearful look of October to rest upo
us as numbness gathered over feeling, an
darkness over thought, and the restles
pulsations of life ceased to beat forever.