The Open Air 



listen to the gentle " hush, rush " of the breeze in the 

 oak above me; " hush " as it came slowly, " rush " 

 as it came fast, and a low undertone as it nearly 

 ceased. So thick were the haws on a bush of thorn 

 opposite, that they tinted the hedge a red colour 

 among the yellowing hawthorn-leaves. To this red 

 hue the blackberries that were not ripe, the thick dry 

 red sorrel stalks, a bright canker on a brier almost as 

 bright as a rose, added their colours. Already the 

 foliage of the bushes had been thinned, and it was 

 possible to see through the upper parts of the boughs. 

 The sunlight, therefore, not only touched their outer 

 surfaces, but passed through and lit up the branches 

 within, and the wild-fruit upon them. Though the 

 sky was clear and blue between the clouds, that is, 

 without mist or haze, the sunbeams were coloured 

 the faintest yellow, as they always are on a ripe 

 autumn day. This yellow shone back from grass 

 and leaves, from bough and tree-trunk, and seemed 

 to stain the ground. It is very pleasant to the eyes, 

 a soft, delicate light, that gives another beauty to the 

 atmosphere. Some roan cows were wandering down 

 the lane, feeding on the herbage at the side; their 

 colour, too, was lit up by the peculiar light, which gave 

 a singular softness to the large shadows of the trees 

 upon the sward. In a meadow by the wood the oaks 

 cast broad shadows on the short velvety sward, not so 

 sharp and definite as those of summer, but tender, 

 and, as it were, drawn with a loving hand. They 

 were large shadows, though it was mid-day a sign 

 that the sun was no longer at his greatest height, 

 but declining. In July, they would scarcely have 

 extended beyond the rim of the boughs; the rays 

 would have dropped perpendicularly, now they 

 slanted. Pleasant as it was, there was regret in the 



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