124 By Leafy Ways. 



the silent orchard alleys there shine, like glowing 

 emhers, heaps of fallen apples. 



The woodlands even yet have hardly donned their 

 fullest splendour, but we read the story of the season 

 on the leaves of many a noble tree. Some there are 

 still draped in summer green, save that a single spray 

 hangs here and there, shining among the sombre 

 fol'age like beaten gold. 



The beech grows red in the warm October sunshine. 

 The great wood pigeons that feed upon the fallen mast 

 fly up as steps draw near, and shake from the rattling 

 branches a shower of colour with their flapping wings. 



One noble lime still wears, blended in exquisite 

 harmony, its varied tones of green, and brown, and 

 amber. Another, more gorgeous still, is perfect in its 

 dress of gold. 



Day by day the black poplar strews fresh glory on 

 the path. The perfume that clung about its opening 

 foliage lingers no longer round the dying leaves. Its 

 neighbour, the stately walnut, whose grey arms are 

 growing quickly bare, is fragrant to the last, and its 

 brown and shrivelled leaves are scented still. 



The fans of the horse-chestnut are glorious in 

 crimson and gold. The great trees are ablaze with 

 colour, and the rich brown of their riperiing fruit shines 

 through the rough green shells. 



Starling and missel thrush have cleared from the 

 mountain-ash the coral clusters of its brilliant fruit 

 but the tree has not lost its glory yet ; the russet leaves 



