AUTUMNAL MORALITIES 125 



chute-like reluctances which we noticed the 

 rounder and lighter birch leaves practicing 

 half an hour ago. The willow leaves, narrow 

 and pointed, fall more like arrows. I am put 

 in mind, I cannot tell why, of an early morn- 

 ing hour, years ago, when I happened to cross 

 a city garden after the first killing frost, and 

 stopped near a Kentucky coffee tree. Its 

 foliage had been struck with death. Not a 

 breath was stirring, but the leaves, already 

 blackened and curled, dropped in one con- 

 tinuous rain. The tree was out of its lati- 

 tude, and had been caught with its year's work 

 half done. The frost was a tragedy. This 

 breeze among the willow branches is nothing 

 so bad as that. Its errand is all in the order 

 of nature. It calls those who are ready. 



My meditations are still running with the 

 season, still playing with mortality, when a 

 blue jay quits a branch near by (I had not 

 seen him) and flies off in silence. The jay 

 is a knowing bird. No need to tell him that 

 there is a time for everything under the sun. 

 He has proverbial philosophy to spare. Hark ! 

 he has found his voice ; like a saucy school- 

 boy, who waits till he is at a safe distance and 



