October.
It is now October—the tenth month in the year. It was anciently called wyn monat, or wine month, because this is the season of the vintage. An old stanza says,
“Then for ‘October month’ they put
A rude illuminated cut,
Reaching the grapes from off the vine,
Or pressing them, or turning wine;
Or something to denote that there
Was vintage at this time of year.”
In this country, we have some grapes, but we make no wine, or very little. With us, October is a beautiful month; for now the green leaves of the forest are changed and present a variety of the most brilliant hues. The woodbine is seen climbing up the trees and rocks, as red as the coat of a British soldier. The ash, the maple, the oak, the shumack, are clothed in red, yellow, and purple of every shade. The mountain seems to be robed in a coat of many colors.