138 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



yet here to contradict us when we speak of the 

 summer nearing its close. The great leafy ban- 

 ners and uplifted blossoms of the lotus have 

 neither wilted nor turned pale. The freshness 

 of May is everywhere. The days may be short, 

 the birds silent, the breeze too cool for comfort, 

 but it is not the end. 



Where meadow brooks wind in and out 

 among dense shrubbery, and this overshadowed 

 by tall and stately oaks, we occasionally find a 

 hazel-bush or two, and to all such as I know of 

 I make an annual pilgrimage in September, 

 gathering the few nuts these bushes produce. 

 There may be many clumps of hazel-bushes I 

 have never found. I thought I knew this region 

 thoroughly years ago, when I was beginning to 

 study it. I am wiser now. 



No nut but is an autumn fruit, but no frost 

 has touched here as yet, and I give no thought 

 of what might be when I come. More than 

 one of these clusters of hazel-bushes has ac- 

 quired a summery sacredness now, and my visits 

 are only made when I am alone. The recol- 

 lections of other years must not be interrupted. 

 At least once a year my companion returns to 



