238 Walks in New England 



est the playful flight of pretty earth flies, and the 

 blazonry of the rainbow on the bodies and wings 

 of other flies. One felt sorry for the grasshop 

 pers that came out, and were not quite happy, 

 though they leaped with considered vigour, and 

 for the light white butterfly that made mistaking 

 flights over the yet fresh herbage of the departing 

 year. Some flowers there were, of golden-rod in 

 the field, of tansy by the roadside, even a little 

 white violet. 



The unceasing life was present, and all these 

 manifestations told us that a pause was not an 

 end, a sleep not an extinction. At the moment s 

 suggestion, life springs forth and greets us as 

 cordially as though there were no winter snows. 

 The great oaks that rise so strong and forceful, 

 the pines that are so cheery in the winter woods, 

 nay, the bearberry vine and the ground pine 

 that capture large tracts of woodland with their 

 spreading communities, and the mosses and ferns, 

 the pretty selaginella among the violets of the 

 brookside, all speak the same language. The 

 fragrance of the woods was that of October, that 

 worshipful sweetness which speaks of content and 

 grace. A memorable day, this Sunday, when all 

 things seemed to chant with delight, &quot; The Lord 

 is in his holy temple ; let all the earth keep si 

 lence before him ! &quot; 



