The nutters, rustling in the yellow woods,
Who tease the wild things in their solitudes;
The hunters from the thicket's avenue,
In scarlet jackets ;startling on their view,
Skimming a moment o'er the russet plain,
Then hiding in the motley woods again;
The plopping gun's sharp, momentary shock,
Which Echo bustles from her cave to mock;
The bawling song of solitary boys,
Journeying in raptur eo'er their dreaming joys,
Hunting the hedges in their reveries,
For wilding fruit that shines upon the trees;
The wild wood music from the lonely dell,
Where merry Gypseys o'er their raptures
dwell,

Haunting each common's wild and onely nook,

Where hedges run as crooked as the brook, Shielding their camp beneath some spreading oak,

And but discovered by the circling smoke,
Puffing, and peeping up, as wills the breeze
Between the branches of the colored trees :-
3uch are the pictures that October yields,
To please the poet as he walks the fields;
While Nature-like fair woman in decay,
Whom pale consumption hourly wastes away-
Upon her waning features, winter chill,
Wears dreams of beauty that seem lovely still.
Among the heath-furze still delights to dwell,
Quaking, as if with cold, the harvest bell;
And mushroom-buttons each moist morning
brings,

Like spots of snow-shine in dark fairy rings.
Wild shines each hedge in autumn's gay pa-

rade;

And, where the eldern trees to autumn fade,
The glossy berry picturesquely cleaves
Its swarthy bunches 'mid the yellow leaves,
On which the tootling robin feeds at will,
And coy hedge-sparrow stains its little bill.
The village dames, as they get ripe and fine,
Gather the bunches for their "eldern wine;"
Which, bottled up, becomes a rousing charm,
To kindle Winter's icy bosom warm;

And, with its merry partner, nut-brown beer, Makes up the peasant's Christmas-keeping cheer.

Like to a painted map the landskape lies; And wild above shine the cloud-thronged skies,

That chase each other on with hurried pace,
Like living things, as if they ran a race.
The winds, that o'er each sudden tempest
brood,

Waken, like spirits, in a startled mood;
Flirting the sear leaves on the bleaching lea,
That litter under every fading tree;

And pausing oft, as falls the patting rain; Then gathering strength, and twirling them again,

Till drops the sudden calm :-the hurried

To cheer the lone bard's solitary way;
Till surly Winter comes with biting breath,
And strips the woods and numbs the scene

with death;

Then all is still o'er woods and field and plain, As nought had been, and nought would be again.

Most of the winter birds which frequent our islands arrive in October. Numerous sea fowls at stated periods, or at uncertain intervals, perform short migrations to and from different parts of the island. The ring-ousel comes soon after Michaelmas; the Royston crow arrives in October; the redwing about the middle of October; the fieldfare and woodcock keep arriving all October and November; the snipe and jack arrive during the same period, some hens breed here; the pigeon, or stockdove, comes towards the end of November, and some abide here all the year, with the wood pigeon and ring dove; some of which arrive in spring, and others perform partial migrations. Among occasional visitors, which fre quently change their summer and winter

quarters, we have the wila swan, wild goose, wild duck, pochard, and teal. The grosbeak, crossbill, and silk tail, or waxen chatterer, appear at uncertain intervals.

When great abundance of winter migratory birds, particularly fieldfares, arrive early, they usually forbode a hard winter. The same prognostic of a severe season is to be inferred from the early or numerous nigration of wild geese, wild ducks, and other winter fowls, or the appearance of sea gulls in the inland marshes.

The harsh screaming of aquatic fowls, as they pass over us, may often be heard at night, when they themselves are unseen. Cranes, storks, geese, and ducks, all fly by night as well as by day; and the stork is the only one of them who is not clamorous: he takes to wing in silence, and pierces the aërial regions unheard. Cranes, on the contrary, are the most sonorous. Dr. Forster saw a flight of them in November, 1799, at Hackney, in Middlesex; they flew at an immense height. The flight of cranes has been always notable; and Homer, in a beautiful passage, compares it to the march of the Trojan phalanx. In summer tney spread themselves over the north of Europe and Asia, as fa as the arctic crie, and in winter they are met with in the warmer regions or India, Syria, Egypt, &c., and at the Cape of Good Hope. The course of their flight is discovered by the loud noise they make; for they soar to such a height as to be hardly visible to the naked eye. Jeremiah, vii. 7, notices the annual migration of cranes and storks, as also that of the swallow. The story is well known of a brass plate fixed on a swallow, with this inscription, "Prithee, swallow, whither goest thou in winter?" The bird returned with the answer subjoined, "To Anthony of Athens, why doest thou inquire?" The elevated and marshalled flight of wild geese, like that of cranes, seems dictated by geometrical instinct. Shaped like a wedge, they cut the air with less individual exertion; and it is conjectured that the change of its form from an inverted V, an A, and L, or a straight line, is occasioned by the leader of the van's quitting his post at the point of the angle through fatigue, dropping into the rear, and leaving his place to be occupied by another.*

Dr. orstar's Perennial Calendar.

ALIMENTARY CALENDAR.

The temperature of this month is pecu. liarly favorable to the brewing of malt liquor, being neither too hot nor too cold. For ales, however, which require long keeping, the month of March is by some deemed the preferable season.

In October, chickens, pullets, capons, and turkeys, are in high order for the spit. Beef and mutton improve in quality while hares, pheasants, wild ducks, wid geons, teal, plovers, woodcocks, snipes and larks, are added to the former list of viands, and continue in season for the remainder of the year. Cod, which has been absent from table since April, now reappears for the winter season: herrings also, having spawned, are by some connoisseurs more esteemed than in the spring of the year. Oysters, particularly the native Milton and Colchester, are full fed, and in high flavor. Potatoes have attained to proper growth and mealiness, and carrots are in perfection. The dessert chiefly consists of peaches, grapes, apples, pears, and plums.

Prepare arching with hoops, &c., over those beds or patches of tender crops which are to be covered with mats or tarpauling for protection during frosty and severe weather.

October 1.

DECOY DAY.

The first day of October is appointed by act of parliament for commencing to decoy wild-fowl in Lincolnshire, whence the London markets are chiefly supplied with wild ducks, teals, and widgeons: in a single season 31,200 of these birds have been sent to the metropolis from Wainfleet.*

SONG.

AUTUMN gale! sweet autumn gale!
Sing with me a sober wail;
Summer loves the melting song;
Lightsome airs to spring belong;
Old December shouts with glee,
O'er wassail cup and revelry:
Them I note not; thee I call
To my sober festival.

Haste with sighs to woo the rose,
Blooming not till summer's close;
Seek her bower, but O beware
Not to romp or frolic there!
Lest she lose her silken dress,
And her blushing loveliness-
Suck her fragrant breath, and bring
Odours on thy flutt'ring wing.
Hither, hither, autumn gale!
Turn thy flight, and lightly sail.

I see yon sweet bird's quiv'ring throat,
But scarcely hear his liquid note:
Turn thy flight, and to mine ear
Bring the music loud and clear.
Nearer-haste thee !-nearer still-
Now, go wander where you will.
Idle breeze!-that plaintive sigh
Tells me thou art lingering nigh.
Where the fruit hangs golden now,
Roughly blow, and bend the bough;
Or, to please my wayward will,
Shake the branch-'tis easier still-
And drop the fruit, that's ripe and sweet,
On the green grass at my feet.

Autumn gale !-away, away !
We will seek yon ruin gray;
Where old Time hath hung his pall
O'er roofless aisle and ivied wall.
Ceasing now the wail you love
O'er fading flower and leafless grove,

• Butler's Chronological Exercises.

Lift that dusky pall, and shr▾
The dim forgotten tales below.
Fancy lingers thereabout,
To help your pleasant story out.
Night is coming; flit away,
Till the dawn of cheerful day;
Braid your loose hair round your brow
With scarlet poppies, drooping low,
That the dewy flowers may weep
Over your eyelids as you sleep:
Fold your wing, and hang your head,
And sink into your leafy bed.
What! returning! restless breeze!
Not so near, sir, if you please.
Hence away! thou specious foc!
All too like some friends I know;
Boon companions, warm and gay,
While the golden sunbeams stay;
Rude, and bitter cold, like thee,
In darkness and adversity.

So ends an "Evening Song," in the libra
at "Old Court," which Grace sings with-
out music to one of Purcell's airs."
These, and more of such verses, are in
"A Fireside Book," a little volume of
delightful tales and melodies, suited to a
mind that would "study to be quiet."

2nd October 1394 king Richard II. after a truce with France landed with a large force at Waterford in Ireland, and succeeded in reducing to obedience the natives, who in the absence of the English barons and knights from their estates had intercepted and refused the revenues. His object was principally achieved by hospitality, and by extensive largesses, to the chiefs of the different kingdoms into which the country was divided. Richard's pleasure on accomplishing the object of this expedition was marred by the death of his favorite, Robert de Vere, who was killed in Brabant by the tusk of a wild boar. The minion's body was brought to England and viewed by the king, who consoled himself by alloting to the remains a splendid funeral, at which, like Edward II. at the obsequies of Piers Gaveston, he attended almost alone. The king had previously lost his amiable wife.

Froissart in his chronicle gives very interesting particulars of Richard's expedition in Ireland. Although a native of Flanders and an ecclesiastic, a large portion of Froissart's life was spent in the courts of this king and Edward III. Nothing can exceed the amusing manner in which he tells his tales. In the most wild fantastic narrations he rivets the reader's attention. His history, though strictly true, has the air of a romance from the numberless exploits of chivalry which he celebrates. He looks on a knight as little less than an angel, and pays St. James the compliment of calling him "Le saint Baron St. Jacques." In one part of his works he exults in having lived with the great and elegant, and partaken of their dainties, and especially of the "spiced wines," which were the last and most valued regale with our ancestors, before they went to rest. He was a poet as well as an historian. In 1397 he presented to Richard II., as he was sailing on the Thames, a book, finely illuminated, bound in crimson velvet with silver bosses and clasps and gold in roses. "What is the subject?" said the king; "D'Amour," answered Froissart: Richard smiled upon him, and ordered that he should be well entertained. After a careful collection of different MSS. Mr. Johnes rendered a translation into English of Froissart's chronicle, which he printed at the Hafod press, in quarto, with variations and additions, and fac simile engravings from curious and beautiful original illuminations of the time. There is an admirable translation by John Bouchier, knight, lord Berners, in the reign of Henry VIII. printed by R. Pynson 1525, recently reprinted, and edited by Edward V. Utterson, Esq.

to hover and alight constantly near the Trafalgar, a new ship of 100 guns building in the dock-yard at Chatham, to comme morate Lord Nelson's victory. Curiosity was excited by this frequency of the bird's visits-when it was discovered that she had formed a nest in the ship, and had nearly completed her labours. The motions of the bird were purposely observed, and on the morning of the 21st of October :818, the anniversary of the victory, she laid her first egg and subsequently five others.

THE ORPHAN BOY'S TALE.

Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake,

And hear a helpless orphan's tale,
Ah! sure my looks must pity wake,
'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride,

And my brave father's hope and joy •
But in the Nile's proud fight he died,
And I am now an orphan boy.
Poor foolish child! how pleased was I,

When news of Nelson's victory came,
Along the crowded streets to fly,

And see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought,

She could not bear to see my joy;
For with my father's life 'twas bought,
And made me a poor orphan boy.
The people's shouts were long and loud,

My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears; "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd, My mother answered with her tears. "Why are you crying thus," said I,

"While others laugh and shout for joy ?" She kiss'd me and with such a sigh!

She called me her poor orphan boy. "What is an orphan boy ?" I cried,

As in her face I look'd and smil'd; My mother through her tears replied,

"You'll know too soon, ill-fated child !" And now they've toll'd my mother's knell, And I'm no more aparent's joy: O lady, I have learnt too well What 'tis to be an orphan boy. Oh! were I by your bounty fed! Nay, gentle lady, do not chide,Trust me, I mean to earn my bread; The sailor's orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep!-ha ?-this to me? You'll give me clothing, food, employ Look down, dear parents ! look and see Your happy, happy orphan bay! Mrs. Opie.