79\C GGrPT 141 



green and reddened at the tips like points of flame. 

 And all along the bank, through the sad colour of the 

 drooping grasses, shine the hart's-tongue leaves, hiding 

 with broad green fronds the vivid berries of the arum. 

 There is scanty gleaning left of the rich harvest of the 

 hedgerow. The hips hang still on swaying sprays of 

 briar, and the dark red of abundant haws tinges the 

 sombre leafage of the thorn. But no black and crimson 

 berries shine among dark leaves of cornel. Long since 

 plundered are wayfaring tree and rowan. But on the 

 green stems of the spindle the fiery seeds are shining 

 through their crimson shells. Among tangled sprays of 

 bitter-sweet droop still the ruby clusters. On long 

 festoons of bryony, stripped of their dark purple leaves, 

 shine like fire the chains of brilliant berries. 



Among the rain of leaves that patters day and night 

 upon the shivering branches none are brighter than 

 the red spoils of the beech. Its scattered foliage lights the 

 forest slope, and as with the light of sunset the tall trees 

 tinge the very air. As the brown squirrel leaps from 

 tree to tree across the wood a floating track of colour 

 marks his way. Hardly seen at first as he rested on a 

 bough, he watched with fearless mien your coming. He 

 has not stirred at the rustle of your footsteps on the 

 leaves. He is hardly a dozen feet away. His bright 

 eyes show no sign of fear ; his, bushy tail droops idly from 

 the bough. Calmly he watches the invasion of his 

 realm. Now a sudden impulse seizes him, and he runs 

 a little way along the swaying branch. But he has no 

 thought of flight, for with a quick dexterous leap he 



