After a Dry Summer 1 75 



After a Dry Summer 



THERE are heats stored up in the dying 

 moon of September, but there is that in 

 the breeze which is the sole property of 

 our fall, a frank acceptance of the doom of 

 flowers and fruit and herb and tree, a wild free 

 feeling of joyous farewell. The line storm has 

 broken the long drouth, and at least the surface 

 of earth has been rejoiced, refreshed and restored 

 to its old values in some measure. The surface 

 only as yet, for the springs are scarcely reached, 

 and the big trout brooks of the mountains do not 

 fill with their accustomed currents. It must 

 have been a tragic season for the finny population 

 of the brooks, and trout will be scarce next year 

 in many a familiar current from the mountain 

 springs. 



We are now able to discern the terrible effect 

 of the dry summer, for when the forests should 

 be showing glorious colour they are brown and 

 sere. It is common speech that the hues of 

 autumn are dying splendours, but in truth they 



