----- [7] “Picture”--“model.” [8] Opposite. * * * * * =NOVEMBER.= =BY MRS. JULIA C. R. DORR.= Fie upon thee, November! thou dost ape The airs of thy young sisters;--thou hast stolen The witching smile of May to grace thy lip, And April’s rare, capricious loveliness Thou ’rt trying to put on! Dost thou not know Such freaks do not become thee? Thou shouldst be A staid and sober matron, quietly Laying aside the follies of thy youth, And robing thee in that calm dignity Meet for the handmaid of the dying year. But ah! thou art a sad coquette, although The frost of age is on thee! Thou dost sport With every idle breeze that wooeth thee; And toy and frolick with the aged leaves That flutter round thee; and unto the low, Soft murmur of the brooklet, thou dost lend A willing ear; and crowning thy pale brow With a bright coronet, that thou hast woven Of the stray sunbeams summer left behind. Thou dost bend o’er it lovingly, and strive To answer in a cadence clear and sweet As springs first whispers! In the valleys now The flowers have faded, and the singing-birds Greet thee no longer when thou wanderest forth Through the dim forest; and yet thou dost smile, And skip as lightly o’er the withered grass, As if thou hadst not decked thee in the robes That thy dead sister’s wore in festal hours! * * * * * =SONNET.--MUTABILITY.= =BY WM. ALEXANDER.= Things changing show no permanency here; Writ on Earth’s face is Mutability; The surface of old hills wears fast away, And the mutations of this globe appear Inscribed upon her rocks, which still record That present must into the future pass; That Man and his frail works shall like the grass So perish and decay. Moves he vain lord And monarch of a mighty throng, to-day; Flit by a few short summers, hies he back Unto his primal clod, leaving no track Behind. His storms--tell, where now are they? Search for them in the herbage fresh and green, Or find them in the flowers in humble valley seen. * * * * * =AMBITION’S BURIAL-GROUND.= =BY FRANCIS DE HAES JANVIER.=