AUGUST MOODS AND CONTRASTS 



idly. The refreshing night dews are already fall- 

 ing. Except for an occasional sleepy remon- 

 strance all will soon be quiet in the tree-tops. 

 The cicada is no longer heard, but other voices 

 are now taking up the song of the woods. Do 

 you hear the cree, cree, cree of the cricket, and 

 the penetrating call of the tree-toad ? And hark ! 

 the net-veined katydid is rapidly chirring out her 



Brek-ek-ek-ex, 

 Life is complex. 



While the true katydid, solemn, slow, and dis- 

 tinct, is telling dwellers in lands a little north of 

 us that winter's herald the frost may be ex- 

 pected to paint the trees and nip the flowers in 

 about six weeks. 



Frost! Is it possible that the Ice-King will 

 ever again wave his sceptre over this summer- 

 land? 



The leaves and branches are outlined on the 

 ground in silver now, and the fairy tracery 

 sways in the evening wind as the beautiful moon 

 looks down through the tree-tops. Only night 

 influences are at work; let us go. In the grove 

 the day is done. 



[25] 



