The writer may be permitted to add, that when partridge chicks are hatched by a common hen, they should be intrusted to a gamekeeper or other person who understands the kind of food the birds need, otherwise it will be almost impossible to rear them. THE FALL OF THE YEAR. Coldly and bright draws in the day; Gloomy and drear it steals away; For slowly now comes up the sun, His Summer's ardent labours done; And low his golden wheel declines Where Winter shews his starry signs. No more to earth the fervid beams Give beauty such as poet dreams; No more descends the glorious ray, The rapture of the summer day. The sky's deep blue is waxing pale, The sun's inspiring fervours fail; The slanting beam he gives is chill Within the vale and on the hill; And now, with many a jealous fold, The clouds would all his cheer withhold, Nor would on plain or height bestow The soothing of his waning glow. The flowers are gone, save those that still, Like friends who cleave to us through ill, Outbrave the bitter wind that blows, And deck their season to its close. The leaves that late were only stirred By gentlest breath, that only heard The song-bird's note, round these the blast Blows keen and fierce, and rude and fast The rising gale flings far and wide Their withered bloom and idle pride. The birds have fled; the wind alone Makes song in many a sullen tone. But sudden through the bursting sky The sun again comes out on high; The clouds fall back to yield him way, And fly before his eager ray; And gladness fills the breast amain-- The glimpse of Summer come again! Ah! sweet the beam, but like the smile With which the dying would beguile The mourning heart--the last sad ray Love gives to cheer our tears away. The light is gone, the moment's bloom Is sunk again in cold and gloom. So pass away all things of earth, Whate'er we prize of love and worth-- The form once dear; the voice that cheered; The friends by many a tie endeared; The dreams the aching heart forgets; The hopes that fade to cold regrets. Sweet scenes, dear haunts, that once I knew, My heart yet fondly turns to you. Let seasons change, and be ye bright With all the Summer-tide's delight, Or let the Winter's gloom be yours, Your beauty still for me endures; For Memory keeps unfaded yet What Love would have me not forget. D. F. * * * * * Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. * * * * * _All Rights Reserved._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art,, by Various