1 70 Autumn 



SEPTEMBER IN THE WOODS 



As SOON as foliage begins to lose its first bright 

 vernal freshness, the first glory of colour passes into 

 shades of dark green. Ere June is ended the blossoms 

 of hawthorn and orchard are almost gone, and the 

 green fruit is indistinguishable amid the green leaves. 

 The springing corn darkens and so does the clover 

 that awaits the scythe, while the very wild flowers are 

 hidden by the tall rank weeds. But in harvest time 

 the earth begins to glow with new tints, and the 

 woodland glades never are prettier than in September. 

 Autumn has not yet donned its myriad-coloured 

 dress, but is busy in the making of it. The delicate 

 beginnings of decay are everywhere visible. On the 

 elms are patches of bright yellow that in the course 

 of a few weeks will spread all over them. The oak, 

 whose acorns are now full and almost ripe, is showing 

 a light brown that reminds you of premature grey 

 hairs on a young head, and the beeches, too, have 

 just begun to wither, while the chestnuts, as if grief- 

 stricken, are well advanced to the condition that pre- 

 cedes their winter poverty. As you walk in the 

 solitary paths inside the wood, ever and anon in the 

 stillest weather a solitary leaf is detached and like 

 a brown moth flutters downward to your feet. Here 

 and there one has caught in the gossamer festoons, 



