224 IValks in New England 



One Indian Summer Day 



iHE true and only Indian Summer has 

 visited our clime this year; not with 

 generous expenditure of balm and 



beauty, as sometimes happens, but none the less 



truly because its perfect loveliness was expended 



on one day. Very rarely have we a season of 



marvelous days such as Longfellow describes in 



&quot; Evangeline,&quot; 



&quot; That beautiful season 



Called by the pious Acadian peasants the summer of All 

 Saints. 



Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light, and 

 the landscape 



Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood. 



Peace seemed to reign upon Earth, and the restless heart 

 of the ocean 



Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in har 

 mony blended : 



Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the 

 farmyards, 



Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pi 

 geons, 



