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loveliness never revealed save to the glance 

 of unforgotten youth. The path which 

 leads to the spring has this unfailing charm 

 for me, and for many who have long 

 ceased to follow its winding course. At 

 this season it is touched here and there by 

 the autumnal splendour, and fairly riots in 

 the profusion of the golden-rod, whose 

 yellow plumes are lighting the retreating 

 steps of summer across the fields. Great 

 masses of brilliant woodbine cover the stone 

 walls and hang from the trees along the 

 fences. The corn, cut and stacked in 

 orderly lines, is not without its transform- 

 ing touch of colour; and while the trees 

 still wait for the coronation of the year 

 Nature seems to have passed along this 

 path and turned it into a royal highway. 

 As it approaches the woods, one gets 

 glimpses of the village spires in the distance, 

 and finds a new charm in this borderland 

 between sunlight and shadow, between soli- 

 tude and the companionship of human life. 

 A little distance along the edges of the 

 woods, with an occasional detour of the 

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