AUTUMN TIDES. 



THE season is always a little behind the sun in our 

 climate, just as the tide is always a little behind the 

 moon. According to the calendar, the summer ought 

 to culminate about the 21st of June, but in reality it 

 is some weeks later ; June is a maiden month all 

 through. It is not high noon in nature till about the 

 first or second week in July. When the chestnut- 

 tree blooms, the meridian of the year is reached. By 

 the first of August, it is fairly one o'clock. The lus- 

 tre of the season begins to dim, the foliage of the 

 trees and woods to tarnish, the plumage of the birds 

 to fade, and their songs to cease. The hints of ap- 

 proaching fall are on every hand. How suggestive 

 this thistle-down, for instance, which, as I sit by the 

 open window, comes in and brushes softly across my 

 hand ! The first snow-flake tells of winter not more 

 plainly than this driving down heralds the approach 

 of fall. Come here, my fairy, and tell me whence 

 you come and whither you go? What brings you 

 to port here, you gossamer ship sailing the great 

 sea ? How exquisitely frail and delicate ! One of 

 the lightest things in nature ; so light that in the 



