Returned home at about half-past five, dined at six; found another beautiful nosegay waiting for me, from my unknown furnisher of sweets. This is almost as tantalising as it is civil; and I would give half my lovely flowers to find out who sends them to me. Distributed them all over the room, and was as happy as a queen. Mr. ---- called. My father was obliged to go out upon business, so D---- and I had to entertain that worthy youth. He seems to have a wonderful veneration for a parcel of scribblers, whose names were never heard of in England, beyond the limits of their own narrow coteries. But he speaks like an enthusiast of the woods and waters of his glorious country, and I excuse his taste in poetry. Now isn't this strange, that a man who can feel the amazing might, majesty, and loveliness of nature, can endure for a moment the mawkish scribbling of these poetasters? Verily, we be anomalous beasts. * * * * * AUTUMN. Thou comest not in sober guise, In mellow cloak of russet clad-- Thine are no melancholy skies, Nor hueless flowers pale and sad; But, like an emperor, triumphing, With gorgeous robes of Tyrian dyes, Full flush of fragrant blossoming, And glowing purple canopies. How call ye this the season's fall, That seems the pageant of the year, Richer and brighter far than all The pomp that spring and summer wear? Red falls the westering light of day On rock and stream and winding shore; Soft woody banks and granite grey With amber clouds are curtain'd o'er; The wide clear waters sleeping lie Beneath the evening's wings of gold, And on their glassy breast the sky And banks their mingled hues unfold. Far in the tangled woods, the ground Is strewn with fallen leaves, that lie Like crimson carpets all around Beneath a crimson canopy. The sloping sun with arrows bright Pierces the forest's waving maze; The universe seems wrapt in light,-- A floating robe of rosy haze. Oh, Autumn! thou art here a king; And round thy throne the smiling Hours A thousand fragrant tributes bring Of golden fruits and blushing flowers.