Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



why were none found dead? If they migrated, 

 how did their movements escape detection? 

 There is something yet to learn concerning the 

 commonest forms of wild life, and the supposed 

 purposes of many a creature may prove some 

 day not to be the real ones. 



Nature of a bright November day may be 

 subdued, but not to the point of melancholy. 

 The brown rushes in the marsh may not excite 

 us to exuberant joy as they were sure to do 

 when green in summer; but we contemplate 

 them with interest, though they hint of death; 

 and the chirp of the autumn bird is never a com- 

 plaint that the heyday of blossom and bright 

 flowers is over for a season. The bird is still 

 thankful that something remains, as I find abun- 

 dant satisfaction now in counting the heap of 

 nuts that I have gathered. The bloom of every 

 nut tree was a thing of beauty, but more so, I 

 think, is the matured fruit to-day. Nor is this 

 all. When the storms of winter make the night 

 dreary, before the bright fire on the andirons 

 it needs but one of these nuts to call up the 

 dreamy landscape, when the meadows were 

 filled with a golden haze and our more quiet 

 thoughts were still of sunshine and content. 



229 



