changing colours of the trees, too, the old Sep- 

 writer had much to say: of the limes 'that tember. 

 become wan and spotted as a doe,' of the 

 mountain-ash 'that has its long fingers dyed 

 redd and browne,' of 'the wyche-elme whose 

 gold is let loose on the wind after nighte- 

 frosts and cold dawnes.' Nor did he forget 

 that 'greate beautie of mistes' which we all 

 know ; and he reached eloquence when he 

 spoke of the apple-orchards and of the wall- 

 fruits of 'olde manor-gardenns ' 'the peache 

 that women and poetes doe make the queene 

 of fruites,' 'the rich glowe and savour of the 

 apricock,' 'the delicate jargonell that keepes 

 the sweetes of France in olde warme English 

 gardenns.' Of wild-fruit, also, he had dainty 

 words and phrases. Blackberries, ' the darke- 

 blue bilberry,' the sloe 'whose excellent 

 purple bloode maketh so fine a comfort,' 'the 

 dusky clustres of the hasel,' ' the green-smockt 

 filberte,' and so forth. Even upon mushrooms 

 he had words of sun and wind and dew, so 

 lightsome were they, ardent and joyous, with 

 a swift movement as though writ by one 

 who remembered gathering 'musherooms' in 

 a sun -sweet dawn after a night of heavy dews, 

 in company with another who laughed often 

 in gladness and was dearest and fairest of all 

 dear and fair things. ' Howbeit/ he added, 



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