60 THE BEECH. 



Aurora peeps from the east, so at the close of 

 summer, if we look sharp, we may find indications 

 on every hand, that a new season of life and energy 

 is in reserve, and beginning even now. The buds of 

 the hedgerow willows are swollen, and often shining 

 and silvery with the soft white silk that wraps their 

 contents ; the alder-trees and the hazels are hung 

 with the green rudiments of their intended catkins ; 

 every musician has his instrument ready, and waits 

 only to see the lifted hand that shall give the signal. 

 All things begin farther back than we are apt to 

 suppose; nature's cradles, like those of wicker, 

 have not more of beginning in them than of ending. 

 Presently these little brown spikes begin to open at 

 their sharp extremities. The coverings roll away, 

 and in due time fall to the ground, strewing the sur- 

 face till it looks like a threshing-floor. At the same 

 time are disclosed the young green leaves and the 

 inner coverings, which are of a delicate pink colour, 

 dry, soft and shining, wavy and half-curled, and so 

 thin that the light goes through them. They hang 

 about the opening leaves, and in the contrast of 

 their exquisite tint, produce one of the loveliest 

 spectacles of the vernal season. Botanists call these 

 pretty and transitory vestments of the buds the 

 "perules." Every tree possesses analogous ones, 

 larger or smaller, according to the species, but in 

 none are they more delicately fashioned or tinted. 

 The leaves themselves are doubled up precisely after 



