changing colours of the trees, too, the old Sep- 

 writer had much to say : of the limes * that tember. 

 become wan and spotted as a doe,' of the 

 mountain-ash 'that has its long fingers dyed 

 redd and browne,' of ' the wyche-elme whose 

 gold is let loose on the wind after nighte- 

 frosts and cold dawnes.' Nor did he forget 

 that 'greate beautie of mistes' which we all 

 know; and he reached eloquence when he 

 spoke of the apple-orchards and of the wall- 

 fruits of 'olde manor-gardenns ' — 'the peache 

 that women and poetes doe make the queene 

 of fruites,' ' the rich glowe and savour of the 

 apricock,' 'the delicate jargonell that keepes 

 the sweetes of France in olde warme English 

 gardenns.' Of wild-fruit, also, he had dainty 

 words and phrases. Blackberries, * the darke- 

 blue bilberry,' the sloe 'whose excellent 

 purple bloode maketh so fine a comfort,' ' the 

 dusky clustres of the hasel,' ' the green-smockt 

 fllberte,' and so forth. Even upon mushrooms 

 he had words of sun and wind and dew, so 

 lightsome were they, ardent and joyous, with 

 a swift movement— as though writ by one 

 who remembered gathering 'musherooms' in 

 a sun-sweet dawn after a night of heavy dews, 

 in company with another who laughed often 

 in gladness and was dearest and fairest of all 

 dear and fair things. ' Howbeit,' he added, 



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