EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE
... AUTUMN. With berries the hedgerows are hung, And yellow leaves cover the ground; The wild flowers have died one by one, Until there are few to be found. Each cornfield and pastare is bare, With ruts all the roadways abound Cold and bleak is the Autumnal air, Aud the wind has a wintry sound. In the valley and on the high hill, The reign of the mist has begun; And rarely is river or rill, Lit up ...