GOOD-BYE TO SUMMER 219 



there Is forest fire without smoke burning in the 

 scarlet flame-tongues of the pointed leaflets of 

 this modern burning bush. And all this is be- 

 neath the shelter of the still green forest into 

 which we must go to find it. From without the 

 full green of summer ripeness prevails, and we 

 must seek other signs of the autumn season. 



But must we, after all? Yesterday or the day 

 before it was true and we were saying that the 

 summer held on well. Today, so suddenly does 

 the change seem to become visible, I saw them 

 blaze up out of a cool swamp at the foot of the 

 hill on which I stood. The smoke of autumn's 

 peace pipe was blue on all the distant hills, and 

 he must have dropped his match in my swamp, 

 where it smouldered and flared and caught the 

 maple even as I looked in the full expectancy of 

 seeing nothing but green. The red fire of greet- 

 ing seemed to run from tree to tree, and all the 

 lowlands for a mile were ablaze, as if some sub- 

 dominant political party had won an unexpected 

 victory and could not wait for night to light its 

 fires of celebration. All the little swamp maples 

 were red with this fire, and though I suppose they 

 have been days in turning the efifect was that of 

 their flashing up as I looked. Then I saw that 



