268 



NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 



Autumn 

 glory. 



Indian 



And what of the antumn glory of the trees ! 

 What of the changes here that mark the ebbing 

 season, beginning with the first maple-leaf that 

 turns yellow in September and ending only with 

 the dark, wine-red leaf of the oak left fluttering 

 alone against the blue sky of December ! Out 

 of the green of summer, into the yellow, the 

 pink, and the red of autumn, the great pro- 

 cession moves. The chlorophyll has exhausted 

 its power in the leaf -cells, the green is bleached, 

 the yellow must follow, and finally the russet 

 of decay. The transitions are even but rapid. 

 The different stages come and go, the hues 

 passing from one into the other so softly, so 

 easily, that before we know it the whole face 

 of nature is changed and the panorama of the 

 scarlet fall is before us. How swiftly the days 

 fly, and when there comes that lull called 

 Indian summer, how we wish it would last for- 

 ever ! But the great globe spins like a potter's 

 wheel, and the coloring that this week stains the 

 valley of the Hudson with carmines and saff- 

 rons, will next week be shifted southward to 

 the shores of the Delaware. The splendor 

 moves with the sun, northward in the spring, 

 southward in the autumn. A fortnight or more 

 and the gorgeous leaves of the hills, torn by the 



