AN IMAGINARY VALLEY. 137 



not where this valley lies it is perchance a 

 medley, a composite of the best, the most pleas- 

 ing of those I have known in days gone by but 

 I am there, with basket and bag, picking up 

 eagerly the riches of youth ; for in those old days 

 a peck of hickorynuts gave more pleasure than 

 dame fortune can now bestow with bounteous 

 hand. 



Along the edges of the valley are clumps of 

 black haw bushes and over them and neighbor- 

 ing shrubs the vines of the summer grape have 

 clambered. The fruit of the haw and the pen- 

 dent clusters of grapes now tempt the palate, 

 and I leave, for a time, the nut gathering and 

 nibble and browse upon these wild, mid-autumn 

 fruits. The chief attractions of the valley are, 

 however, the haze of the air and the glamour of 

 the autumn sunshine. How the latter glorifies 

 everything which it touches; changing into 

 temporary gold the brown and reddish leaves of 

 the maple and reflecting in indescribable hues, 

 the crimson foliage of the black gum and the 

 scarlet oak. 



Where the sun shines not, there my thoughts 



