Through all eternity, my God!
A joyful song I'll raise :

But Oh! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.

Joy and gladness become us at such a season; not rough and boisterous merriment, but innocent and harmless joy and gladness. Much do I love to see, at the close of an autumnal day, the last load of the fields as it comes slowly winding its weary way along the village lane, crowned with green boughs, the labourers, toil-worn and wearied, reclining on the last sheaves they have gathered, and troops of children escorting the procession with ruddy faces, and light hearts, and merry voices.

Hark! from woodlands far away,
Sounds the merry roundelay!
Now across the russet plain,
Slowly moves the loaded wain.
Greet the reapers as they come-
Happy, happy harvest home!

Children join the jocund ring,
Young and old come forth and sing;
Stripling blithe, and maiden gay,
Hail the rural holiday.

Greet the reapers as they come,-
Happy, happy harvest home!

THE HARVEST.

THE harvest! the harvest! how fair on each plain,
It waves in its golden luxuriance of grain;
The wealth of a nation is spread on the ground,
And the year with its joyful abundance is crown'd;
The barley is whitening on upland and lea,

And the oat-locks are drooping, all graceful to see,
Like the long yellow hair of a beautiful maid,

When it waves in the breezes unloosed from the braid.

The harvest! the harvest! how brightly the sun
Looks down on the prospect-its toils are begun,
And the wheat-sheaves so thick in the valleys are piled
That the land in its glorious profusion has smiled;
The reaper has shouted the furrows among-
In the midst of his labour he breaks into song-
And the gleaners laugh gaily, forgetful of care,

In the glee of their hearts, as they gather their share.

The harvest! the harvest! once more we behold-
Fair Plenty array'd in its livery of gold;
We are spared to exult in its bounties again—
A year hath been granted-and shall we remain
Forgetful of Him who hath lengthen'd our days?
Great God of the harvest, to Thee be the praise-
Thou hast prosper'd our toils, and hast given the increase,
And establish'd the land in abundance and peace.
AGNES STRICKLAND.

FLOWERS.

YE are the Scriptures of the Earth,

Sweet flowers, fair and frail;
A sermon speaks in every bud
That woos the summer gale.

Ye lift your heads at early morn,
To greet the sunny ray,

And cast your fragrance forth to praise
That Lord of night and day.

Low in the damp and cheerless earth,

Ye slumber for a while,

Then waken unto glorious life,

And bid creation smile.

Thus when within the darksome tomb
Our mortal frame shall lie ;

The soul, freed from the bonds of sin,
Shall join the choir on high.

THE native place of this very curious-looking bird is not exactly known; some contending that it has been brought into Europe from the East Indies many centuries ago, while others assert that it is wholly unknown in that part of the world, that it is a native of the new continent, and that it was not brought into Europe till the discovery of that part of the world.

Those who contend for the latter opinion, very truly observe, that among all the descriptions we have of eastern birds, that of the turkey is not to be found; while, on the contrary, it is very well known in the new continent, where it runs wild about the woods. It is said by them to have been first seen in France, in the reign of Francis I., and in England in that of Henry VIII., which is about the time when Mexico was first conquered by Spain. On the other hand it is asserted, that the turkey, so far from being unknown in Europe before that time, was known even to the ancients; and that Elian has given a pretty just description of it. They allege, that its very name implies its having been brought from some part of the East; and that it is found, among other dainties, served up to the tables of the great, before that time among ourselves. But what they pretend to be the strongest proof is, that though the wild turkey be so very common in

America, yet the natives cannot contrive to tame it, and though hatched in the ordinary manner, nothing can render it domestic.

With us when young, it is one of the tenderest of all birds; yet in its wild state, it is found in great plenty in the forests of Canada, that are covered with snow above three parts of the year. In their natural woods they are found much larger than in their state of domestic captivity. They are much more beautiful also, their feathers being of a dark grey, bordered at the edges with a bright gold colour. These the savages of the country weave into cloaks to adorn their persons, and fashion into fans and umbrellas, but never once think of taking into keeping animals that the woods furnish them with in sufficient abundance. Savage man seems to find a delight in precarious possession. A great part of the pleasure of the chase lies in the uncertainty of the pursuit, and he is unwilling to abridge himself in any accidental success that may attend his fatigues. The hunting of the turkey, therefore, makes one of his principal diversions; as its flesh contributes chiefly to the support of his family. When he has discovered the place of their retreat, which, in general, is near fields of nettles, or where there is plenty of any kind of grain, he takes his dog with him, which is trained to the sport, (a faithful, rough creature, supposed to be originally reclaimed from the wolf,) and he sends him into the midst of the flock. The turkeys no sooner perceive their enemy, than they set off running at full speed, and with such swiftness, that they leave the dog far behind them; he follows, nevertheless, and sensible they must soon be tired, as they cannot go full speed for any length of time, he at last forces them to take shelter in a tree, where they sit quite spent and fatigued, till the hunter comes up, and, with a long pole, knocks them down, one after the other.

This manner of suffering themselves to be destroyed argues no great instinct in the animal; and, indeed,

in their captive state, they do not appear possessed of much. They seem a stupid, vain, querulous tribe, apt enough to quarrel among themselves, yet without any weapons to do each other any injury. Every body knows the strange antipathy the turkey cock has to a red colour; how he bristles, and, with his peculiar gobbling sound, flies to attack it. But there is another method of increasing the animosity of these birds against each other, which is often practised by boys, when they have a mind for a battle. This is

no more than to smear over the head of one of the turkeys with dirt, and the rest run to attack it, with all the speed of impotent animosity: nay, two of them, thus disguised, will fight each other till they are almost suffocated with fatigue and anger.

But though so furious amongst themselves, they are weak and cowardly against other animals, though far less powerful than they. The cock often makes the the turkey keep at a distance; and they seldom venture to attack him but with united force, when they rather oppress him by their weight than annoy him by their arms. There is no animal, how contemptible soever, that will venture boldly to face the turkey-cock, that he will not fly from. On the contrary, with the insolence of a bully, he pursues any thing that seems to fear him, particularly lap-dogs and children, against both which he seems to have a peculiar aversion. On such occasions, after he has made them scamper, he returns to his female train, displays his plumage around, struts about the yard, and gobbles out a note of self-approbation.

The female seems of a milder, gentler disposition. Rather querulous than bold, she hunts about in quest of grain, and pursuit of insects, being particularly delighted with the eggs of ants and caterpillars. She lays eighteen or twenty eggs, larger than those of a hen, whitish, but marked with spots resembling the freckles of the face. Her young are extremely tender