of bare black boughs, with the faintest flut- 

 ter of lingering leaves. A little farther, you 

 tramp through the hickory flat. Is there 

 magic abroad ? Have genii or gnomes 

 caught you suddenly into a golden world ? 

 There is gold all about you overhead, un- 

 derfoot. It must be these lithe, gray-stemmed 

 woodland giants stored all of sunshine in 

 their hearts, and now exhale it through their 

 leaves. In the grayest day here is warmth 

 and splendor a flame of radiance that 

 makes yet darker the sombre oak-wood. 

 Now, when soft winds sift out of a cloudless 

 sky, what words shall paint its splendid lan- 

 guors, its glory of scent an4 light and col- 

 or ? At foot the foliate gold treads softer 

 than velvet. A clean, burning fragrance 

 uprises as you press it. Here is not only 

 leaf, but fruit nuts of all sizes, all flavors. 

 It is their bruised hulls that you smell, 

 though upon damp mornings the leaves are 

 hardly less fragrant. The wood is alive 

 v/ith squirrels. See the pair frolicly chas- 

 ing one the other around a huge shagbark ! 

 They are young ones who as yet know not 

 the burden of existence, whose pressure 

 sends so many others hurrying, scurrying, 

 all the day long, laying up store of nuts 

 against the coming cold. These two have 

 ii 



