210 



Looking closer, you see he sits on the merest 

 smattering of corn. Underneath are pump- 

 kins, kershaws yellow and green, round, 

 oblong, with necks, without from the big- 

 ness of your head to that of a bushel meas- 

 ure. Now the cloyed hogs shall have a 

 dainty dish indeed. See the rush to rend 

 and fall upon it, tooth and hoof. Andrew 

 looks on with a darkly satisfied smile, 

 muttering the while, " Poun's er fat dar, 

 gent'emen poun's er fat in dat load. Lek 

 de Bible say, you eat an' squeal metty 

 brash you gwine die, not ter-morrer, but 

 soon as de moon gits right." 



This is to friend Andrew the glory, the 

 inner meaning, of all these autumn days. 

 Racing by, they bring hog-killing Christ- 

 mas the plenteous, the merry, clasp to his 

 year of toil. 



The sun stands straight overhead ; the 

 wind drops ; the haze thickens. Yellow cre- 

 puscular light lies soft upon the world the 

 world so adrowse in this thick, warm air. 

 Last night was the third of frost. Now 

 there shall come, most like, days of long, 

 rolling cloud ; of sparse, dripping rain ; of 

 south wind softer than the summer knew. 

 Earth will lie sodden, sopping wet, a quag- 

 mire to wheel and hoof. When again the 



