AUTUMNAL MORALITIES 



FOR the month past my weekly talk has been 

 more or less a traveler's tale of things 

 among the mountains and at the seaside. 

 Now, on this bright afternoon in the last 

 week of October, a month that every outdoor 

 man saddens to see coming to an end (like 

 May, it is never half long enough), let me 

 note a little of what is passing in the lanes 

 and byroads nearer home. 



Leaves are rustling below and above. As 

 is true sometimes in higher circles, they seem 

 to grow loquacious with age ; the slightest 

 occasion, the merest nudge of suggestion, the 

 faintest puff of the spirit sets them off. For 

 me they will never talk too much. I love 

 their preaching seven days in the week. The 

 driest of them never teased my ears with a 

 dry sermon. I scuff along the path on pur- 

 pose to stir them up. " Your turn will come 

 next," I hear them saying ; but the message 



