The Portland daily press., 1874-10-20
October.


1t is the month of gold, the nectar of the
year. Italian skies are well enough, but if
Virgil and Petrarch could have taken an o.
tober trip up the Connecticut valley down
the HOusatonic, georges and sonnets would
have shone with iairer colors and more COR
geOus tints. The English poets sing in min.
or tones of the brown and russell year, the
wailing winds, and sere and yellow leaf, sod
den with the melancholy damps of their foggy
isle, but when the Britisher lands upon our
shore in the autumnal season, he is dazzled
with its unwonted splendors and exhilarated
by the new sensations OF an Indian summer
AS this indefinite period has no almanac, we
may stretch it backward from those warm
and hazy days that after leaffall laugh right
in the face Of winter, through our whole har-
vest season. 1t is summer encored, and re-
appearing with sweeter smiles and more en-
trancing beauty having
Borrowed every seasons charm % ..,
tf'f4a 10 end its days in gladness." "
The Evangelical alliance of last fall derived
something of its eclat from the shining well
come that our October gave to the expectant
foreigners. The English delegation were for
while conspicuous by their silk umbrellas,
which they chung to through several resplen-
dent days with national tenacity. 1t was
amusing to hear their eulogies upon our
most wonderful and Incompatible climate, es-
pecially if spoken with umbrella in hand It
was for our credit however, that they re-em-
barked before the November rains and early
sleet, when come, indeed, s'the melancholy
days, the saddest of the year," when the
rustling leaves are whirled by eddying gusts,
aud the naked woods SILVER with chilly mists,
and the cawing crows answer to the rumbling
of the frosty wheels.
Meanwhile, o, friendly readers of the Repub-
hcan, rejoice in these October days. Open
all your senses, and drink to the full this
trimming cup of the old, best wine OF all the
seize the day. Walk as children of its golden
light, heavy with the dreamy sunshine,
drowsy with the smell of marigolds and as.
tiers, the new-mown rowen and great, nodding
sunfowers, glowing with mingled splendors
the of painted leaves, shimmering with the
yellow warmth of corn-shocks and cleaning
pumpkins, musical with the rhythm of the
whopping fail, and blue-jay's shrilly scream
and whir OF the startled partridge, and drop
ping the nuts. Have you the love of Ma
ture, any inward sense of her sweet harmo-
mics? Have you any brooding cares, none
tary anxietes, hard winters work before
you, notes coming due, trade uncertain? Do
you feel leaden, wooden, nervous, cross, SEN
sitive, thin-skinned, ccnstitutionally dis
couraged? Get out of this into the grand
sun. bath of this October glory. Imbibe the
spirit Of these rejoicing days. Carpe diem.
Let poor Richard and his stingy maxims wait.
Take your wife and children out to ride, or
your sweetheart, or your aunt, or somebody,
if you are reduced to that, and, next day,
somebody else, and so on, while these days of
royal opportunity survive. And as the rud-
dy glow and cnangeful glory of the sunset
give way to the chill Of the October night,
light up upon the hearth your open fire,
which, if you haven't any, proves that you
will require another article on hearths and
open fires.-Sprinafeld Republican,.