n8 By Leafy Ways. 



wind has shaken down the rustling leaves upon the 

 forest path we may mark them better. When the bare 

 black boughs stand clear cut against the frosty sky we 

 shall see their figures in the leafless elm, or watch 

 them on the upland pasture, whose coarse herbage, 

 browned with the sun of summer, is stiffening with 

 rime. 



Along a lonely hillside winds a grassy road, seldom 

 marked even by the track of wheels, save when some 

 lumbering waggon brings down the thin sheaves of the 

 scanty upland harvest. 



Over the broad hedges wanders the traveller's joy, 

 whose seeds, like tufts of light grey feathers, mingle 

 with the bright fruit of the wayfaring-tree. 



Above the road rise the round shoulders of the 

 hill, with masses of grey limestone showing here and 

 there through a rough coat of gorse and heather. 



Facing the far end of the lane rises a steep cliff, in 

 whose crevices the rowan finds a footing, and the 

 silvery leaves of the white beam mingle with the dark 

 leafage of the yew. 



Below the road broad fields sweep gently down to 

 the moor. Here they are flanked with a fringe of 

 larches ; there a few storm-beaten fir-trees cluster 

 about the rude earthworks of an ancient camp. 



The tall straggling hedgerows are bright with haws ; 

 touched even with the vivid colour of the spindle or 

 the jewelled clusters of the nightshade. 



Over all there broods the silence of the autumn. 



