they removed from the city to take possession of the "dear old home" in
W, now enlarged and adorned in various ways; but the same clear brook
still flowed at the foot of the garden, and the same trees, only that
they were older, and their branches had grown more wide-spreading,
shaded the dwelling. As they passed beneath the shade of those
well-remembered trees, Mrs. Winthrop addressed her mother, saying, "Do
you remember, mamma, how sad we felt the morning we left our home so
many years ago, and we little thought it would ever again be ours." Mrs.
Ashton gazed fondly upon her daughter and the blooming children at her
side, as she replied in the language of the Psalmist, "I have been young
and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken nor his seed
begging bread."

THOUGHTS ON AUTUMN.

Again has the season of Autumn arrived. The stated changes of the
seasons serve as monitors to remind us of the flight of time; and upon
such occasions the most unthinking can hardly avoid pausing to reflect
upon the past, the present, and the probable future. Autumn has been
properly styled the "Sabbath of the year." Its scenes are adapted to
awaken sober and profitable reflection; and the voice with which it
appeals to our reflective powers is deserving of regard. This season is
suggestive of thoughts and feelings which are not called forth by any
other; standing, as it were, a pause between life and death; holding in
its lap the consummate fruits of the earth, which are culled by the hand
of prudence and judgment, some to be garnered in the treasury of useful
things, while others are allowed to return to their primitive elements.
When spring comes smiling o'er the earth, she breathes on the icebound
waters, and they flow anew. Frost and snow retreat before her advancing
footsteps. The earth is clothed with verdure; and the trees put forth
their leaves. Again, a few short months, and where has all this beauty
fled? The trees stand firm as before; but, with every passing breeze, a
portion of their once green leaves now fall to the ground. We behold the
bright flowers, which beautify the earth, open their rich petals, shed
their fragrance on the breeze, and then droop and perish. Sad emblem of
the perishing nature of all things earthly. May we not behold in the
fading vegetation, and the falling leaves of autumn, a true type of
human life? Truly "we all do fade as a leaf." Life at the best is but a
shadow that passes