Northern Star, And Warren And Bristol Gazette

September, the month of fruits and fevers, of sultry noons and dewy evenings, has commenced its reign of incipient desolation. The deep and opulent green of the summer verdure begins to fade into a variety of sickly tints under its withering influence: and the dry rustling of falling leaves robbed of their juicy elasticity, and scattered by every breath of the autumnal breeze, will soon begin to teach us the gloomy but salutary lesson of our own decay. There is, after all, however, a mellowness and a beauty in the autumn landscape, which, to the contemplative mind, is more fascinating than the gaudier livery of the summer. The vegetation of our forests "dies like the dolphin," changing to a thousand splendid hues; day pours its profusion of light upon us with a moderated intensity of heat: and the intellectual and physical systems begin to resume the vigorous tone which had languished and become paralyzed under the powerful influences of a vertical sun. The vintage and the gathering of fruits belong to this season, there the grape yields its wine, and the apple and the peach give their juices; the harvests are housed and nature pours all her annual bounties into the lap of man. If we were to designate the period in human existence to which the month of September corresponds, we should select the time when the hair turns grey, when the blood abates its fiery and tumultuous course through the veins, when the intemperance of the passions subside into a calm and even course, and when we begin to nerve ourselves for the struggle of decay and death. N. Journal.