NATURAL HISTORY STUDIES 



of the rest which is given in sleep. The trees, some 

 of them already bare, the wrapped- up buds formed 

 months ago on the boughs, the seeds buried in the 

 ground, the chrysalids hidden in quiet resting-places, 

 the eggs and larvae under still waters, the clammy 

 frogs in the mud of the pond, the reptiles and 

 mammals who have found their winter nests they 

 are not dead but sleeping. They await the good- 

 morning of another spring, and though to some this 

 never comes, of most it may be said that if they 

 sleep, they shall do well. 



We have spoken of autumn as the curfew of the 

 year partly because of the covering-up of many vital 

 fires that is then enforced, and partly also because 

 of a memory of curfew bells we used to hear in a 

 country village long ago, which seemed always to 

 sadden and gladden in alternate notes saying, 

 " Night and Morning, Death and Life ; Night and 

 Morning, Withering and Sowing ; Night and Morn- 

 ing, Weariness and Rest ; Night and Morning." 

 This was a fancy, perhaps, as regards the bells, but 

 it is a fact as regards autumn. 



Climb the hill above the village, and watch the 

 sun set over the withering woods. Look out over 

 the sea of gold, mingled with fire, and broken by 

 dark rocks which you know to be pines. Accept the 

 withering, but see also the harvest-fields ; even on 

 the bare boughs there are buds. Hear the birds 

 pass overhead, quite a babel of good-byes sometimes, 

 but many at least will return. Watch the seeds 

 drift off the dead plants as the wind sighs along the 

 hillside, and know that the race continues. Look 



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