Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1873-10-02
EDUCATIONAL COLUMN.

4
October has come: Go out, all We who
have an eye for beauty, and worship God
This is he month of color. Gods hand
carries palette, and with His right He
glorifies every thing in the heavens above
and in the earth beneath. See how at his
inspiration everything owns the artistic
spirit There are no such golden days in
the whole year as these tranq il days OF
October. No dull and sluggish haze-no
aerial puddle of smoke and dust-bui pure
amber, translucent, light and clear-a
mere tint and color diffused through space
giving the merest tint of golden color to
all things. Two days together, twin days
of glory and then comes distant rain I;
the wind changes; a cooler air greets you !;
clear; not cloud spot, look where you
will-north, west, south, all around the
betting horizon, not enough ofcloud fleece
to weave garment for Jove-aIl clear,
above and beneath, clear and soft. Octo-
Der has none of those summer days in
which the sun shines needles, so sharp Is
the light-dry, piercing, and glittering
But now, let the heavens be never so clear,
and the sun never so bright, and still the
light is soft.
How wonderful are the silence and the
stiffness! The birds are gone. The in
sects are getting back TO winter quarters.
Butterflies are mrmmies, wrapped and hi6
away in waiting. The grass has ceased
to strive in growing. The leaves are ripe.
The wood puts forth no more fresh
growth. Did not the universal growths--
unsheathing, unrolling, forth-pushing. the
whole soil filled with hore and every
stem tiny pump, and every meadow ex.
erting greater force than would be need
ed TO swing the earth in its orbit--mGke
that inaudihle sound and that audible 81
lence, that sense of something going on in
silence, which one perceived in June
But In October the noise which busy 81
lence makes is hushed, so that even po-
cts ear can hear nothing. The winds can
take their pitch no longer from the weird
North, where pines grow and sigh, but
from the perfumed soutf where the bells
Of perfdmed flowers give them their tone,
and ring with them in symphony. So
still are the days, tuat one may sit at ths
open window and look upon the topmos.
leaf of the mercurial aspen, and it shall
not stir. Ii is fast asleep. 1t does not
even breathe, and so is stiller than babe
in iis cradle. The geometric spider'swoU,
which hangs in silver lines between a
stalk of mOnkshood and a branch Of
morning glories, does not quiver; ,ts
cords, finer than silk, sent out for yards
as guys and stay-rCpes, neither tremble
nor sway. They are absolutely still.
In these moods, hushed to the very in
nermost soul OF silence, comes with
startling nipper through the air, robin,
every pulsation of its wing upon the air
startles you like drum beat SO still is
it. A gentle noise is needed to reveal q
great silence. We want no painter here,
this is the years Sabbath. A picture is
but lock cut, fringe clipped of. In
January we may be thankful for the SOU
venir bat not now. Nature is one vast
and multitudinous picture. Thus God
builds and paintsl Is this all for the eye? /?
Is there no message for the soul? Are
not the heavens nearer-are not angel
messages sped to us through these SYM
bols
The year is coming to die. Behold its
joyl 1t has had its conflict. Behold its
victoryl What are all these banners,
these gorgeous tinted trees, these opaline
mornings, these golden evenings, this
soft and sweet midday, and all treasure
which they look up on day by days 1t is
Nature saying,'l have foughta good fight /;
have finished my course; 1 wait for my
crown" May our old age be an October,
not November.