176 A BAIN YD AY TRAMP. 



went out. How beautiful we found the woods I 

 More than ever I despair of 



" Putting my woods in song." 



Every fresh condition of light brings out new 

 features. They are not the same in the morn- 

 ing and the afternoon; sunshine makes them 

 very different from a gray sky ; and heavy rain, 

 which hangs still in drops from every leaf and 

 twig, changes them still more. 



This time the tree-trunks were the most no- 

 ticeable feature. Thoreau speaks of rain wak- 

 ing the lichens into life, and we saw this as never 

 before. Not only does it bring out the colors 

 and give a brightness and richness they show at 

 no other time, but it raises the leaves — if one 

 may so call them — makes them stand out fresh. 

 The beeches were marvelous with many shades 

 of green, and of pink, from a delicate blush over 

 the whole tree, to bright vermilion in small 

 patches. The birches, "most shy and ladylike 

 of trees," were intensely yellow; some lovely 

 with dabs of green, while others looked like rug- 

 ged old heroes of many battles, with great patches 

 of black, and ragged ends of loosened bark frin- 

 ging them like an Indian's war dress, up to the 

 branches. Every hollow under the trees had 

 become a clear pond to reflect these beauties, 

 and lively little brooks rippled across the path, 



