'Mong the leaves they may not hide, Quickly, quickly they're espied, Now they're coming down in showers On the withered leaves and flowers. Something kindly shakes the trees, Hark ! it is the merry breeze. —Cho. Down among the rustling leaves, Like the busy, busy bees, Bustling, fumbling, o'er and o'er, All are gath'ring in their store. Of the golden autumn days, Smiling through the mellow haze, None so gay, O, list the chime, As the merry, merry nutting time. —Cho.

Old Folks at Home.

/ (Pat's Pick, page 83.)

SSAarpt.

Way down upon de Suanee ribber, Far, far away, Dere's wha' my heart is turning ebber, Dere's wha' de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home. Chorus—All de world am sad and dreary, Eberywhere I roam, O, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Par from de old folks at home.