336 



AFTERMATH 



As we reached the middle of the Hollow lane, 

 the little waterfall upon the right, lacking the 

 muffling barrier of foliage, had an unaccustomed 

 weight of , sound, and on the left the beauty of 

 the Laurels and Hemlocks that swept above a 

 carpet of Ground Pine seemed like a new discovery. 

 For, as the flower and the leaf of Summer disap- 

 pear from the scene, the evergreen comes forward 

 as by magic, the silent, unemotional evergreen, 

 companion of rocks, a thing seeming to have 

 more concern with the fixity of "the eternal 

 hills" than with time and the shifting of the 

 seasons. 



Yet though no color change is theirs, 

 other than the contrast of the tender 

 shoot with weathered twigs, and the 

 rosy hue of the flower equivalent with 

 the brown cone that follows, these 

 evergreens speak in a definite lan- 

 guage of their own to those who 

 pause to listen, and the varied 

 expression of their needle 

 leaves is most emphatic. 

 Under a fall of soft 

 clinging snow how differently 

 they adjust themselves. The 



