THE BROWNING OF THE LEAVES 243 



than if we were stationary or retreating. The 

 phenomenon is like the sound of a coming train 

 which increases its roar tremendously till it has 

 come abreast, then falls away quite suddenly as 

 the sound becomes a receding one. 



The wild things mostly resist the importunities 

 of the autumn sun, though, as our gardens testify, 

 a very little selection is needed to produce crops 

 of flowers in the summer of St. Martin. The wild 

 white bush-rose, Rosa arvensis, now and then puts 

 out a blossom in October or November all among 

 its red hips. Such bushes as these are the fore- 

 runners of our cultivated roses that, not content 

 with overshadowing all other flowers in June, 

 give us new blossoms to rival the phlox and the 

 African marigold in their own seasons. 



When the cold nights and the rotting rain keep 

 off we can find plenty of October violets and 

 primroses with stray campions, pale pink images 

 of the summer ones, dandelions, buttercups, and 

 others breaking rank or rather breaking bivouac, 

 as individuals will in the best organized of armies. 

 A pear tree occasionally breaks into bloom amid 

 the ripe fruit, and I have seen a horse chestnut 

 come out in November as full of fans and blossom- 

 buds as when they unglue in spring. 



These, however, are manifest exceptions. 

 Though it may be true that the growing leaf- 

 bud pushes off the old red leaf, yet when that 

 is accomplished, the pushing movement holds. 

 The autumn sun may run polishing up and down 



