GOOD-BY TO SUMMER 



heard now, though a few small voices still pipe 

 at sunset. This morning I watched a little com- 

 munity of crickets as they drowsily emerged from 

 the long grass heavy with frosty moisture. They 

 already feel the influence of Nature's autumn lul- 

 laby, and in a short time they will fall asleep, an 

 occasional one only to awaken in the spring. All 

 the summer jousts and tournaments are forgotten 

 now, and the pugnacious little creatures, who 

 have perhaps slaughtered thousands of their kind 

 at some Ashby-de-la-Zouche, are gentle with the 

 docility that comes with numbness. 



Spiders are spinning their fairy coverlets and 

 late caterpillars are hastening to wrap themselves 

 up in their cocoons. The only one of their kind 

 who would seem to run no cold-taking risks at 

 this season is that cosey-looking fellow in the red- 

 brown coat w r ith the black velvet tips. He is 

 speeding briskly enough on his way now, but at 

 our slightest touch he would halt and curl him- 

 self up into a plush ball. 



Do you feel the sudden chill? Those golden- 

 leaved maples the first of the grove-trees to 

 succumb to autumnal influences have misled us 

 with a " sunshine of their own." But look 

 through the trees westward, at the crimson glory 



[41] 



