meet with the wild ones, and conduct them to the mouth of the snare: the man behind the reeds then throws into the pipe some hempseed, of which these birds are very fond, and thus they are tempted to advance a little way under the netting. A very small dog, well trained for the purpose, is next ordered to play about before the screens, and bark at the ducks, which, vexed at being disturbed by so petty an assailant, advance to drive him off. When they have by this means been seduced a considerable way up the tunnel, the decoyduck by diving gets out of the arched net, and the man coming from behind the hedge appears at the entrance of the pipe: the wild-fowl, not daring to rush by him, immediately dash forwards into the pursenet, where they are taken.

The farmer continues to sow his corn during this month: and wheat is frequently not all sown till the end of it. When the weather is too wet for this business, he plows up the stubble fields for winter fallows. Acorns are sown at this time, and forest and fruit trees are planted. At the very

close of the month a few flowers still cheer the eye; and there is a second blow of some kinds, particularly the woodbine. But the

scent of all these late flowers is comparatively very faint. The greenhouse, however, is in high perfection at this period; and by its contrast with the nakedness of the fields and garden is now doubly grateful.

Unconscious of a less propitious c'ime,

There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug,
While the winds whistle and the snows descend.
The spiry myrtle, with unwith'ring leaf,
Shines there and flourishes. The golden boast
Of Portugal and Western India there,
The ruddier orange and the paler lime,
Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm,
And seem to smile at what they need not fear.

153

NOVEMBER.

Now the leaf

Incessant rustles from the mournful grove,
Oft startling such as studious walk below;
Ani slowly circles through the waving air.

As the ripening and dispersing of seeds was a striking character of the last month, so the fall of the leaf distinguishes the present. From this circumstance the whole declining season of the year is often in rommon language denominated the fall. The melancholy sensations which attend this gradual death of vegetable nature, by which the trees are stripped of all their beauty, and left so many monuments of decay and desolation, forcibly suggest to the reflecting mind an apt comparison for the fugitive generations of man. This quick succession of springing and falling leaves has been thus beautifully applied by Homer.

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now with'ring on the ground.
Another race the following spring supplies;
They fall successive, and successive rise:

So generations in their course decay,

So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.

POPE'S HOMER.

The loss of verdure, together with the shortened days, the diminished warmth, and frequent rains, justifies the title of the gloomy month of November: and it seems to be felt as such by other animals beside

man.

In pensive guise,

Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead,

And through the sadden'd grove, where scarce is heard
One dying strain, to cheer the woodman's toil.
Haply some widow'd songster pours his plaint,
Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse,
While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks,
And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late
Swell'd all the music of the swarming shades,
Robb'd of their tuneful souls, now shiv'ring sit
On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock;
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes,
And nought save chatt'ring discord in their note.
TROMSON.

Intervals, however, of clear and pleasant weather occasionally happen; and in general the autumnal months are, in our island, softer and less variable than the correspondent ones in spring. It long continues

The pale descending year, yet pleasing still.

In fair weather the mornings are sharp; but the hoar-frost, or thin ice, soon vanishes before the rising sun.

Sudden storms of wind and rain frequently occur, which at once strip the trees of their faded leaves, and reduce them to their state of winter nakedness.

One of the first trees that becomes naked is the walnut, which is quickly succeeded by the mulberry, horse-chestnut, sycamore, lime and ash; the elm retains its verdure for some time longer; the beech and oak are the latest forest trees in casting their leaves: apple and peach-trees often remain green till the latter end of November; and pollard oaks, and young beeches, lose not their withered leaves, till they are pushed off by the new ones of the succeeding spring.

The wood-pigeon, or stock-dove, the latest in its arrival of the winter birds of