Sheep browsed on the hill-sides, or nibbled coldly under the branches of sheltering trees.

In the wet, dripping barn-yard cattle were seen huddled together under a lee, now seeking warmth in the fresh shocks, now proclaiming their troubles in subdued lowing.
The very landscape seemed weeping and melancholy.

Even the summer birds, whose songs give such a charm to the woods, were gone.

And there was the loon upon the lake gabbling his welcome to the approaching winter.

The rain, too, had filled the brooks, and their waters were gurgling down deep, shadowy dells, mingling their touching music with the sad, sighing wind.