THROUGH THE CHANGING YEAR 149 



are ready with sticks and even guns to kill 

 them when at last, the uncut corn having be- 

 corrie a mere patch, they try to make their 

 escape. The old belief was that the spirit of 

 the corn entered into and escaped in the last 

 of the living creatures to leave the corn. 



When the harvest has been gathered in, the 

 stubble-field still serves as a contrast to the 

 green of the trees, which, however, is now 

 nearing its time of change. The trees have 

 got out of this year's leaves all that they need 

 from them, and are preparing for their dis- 

 missal. Their change of colour, from green 

 to yellow and red, is the sign that the end is 

 near. The beauty of the autumn foliage, 

 whether of single trees, or over a wide stretch 

 of wooded country, has often been extolled. 

 In places the colour is exquisitely varied, in 

 tenderest shades; elsewhere it is so brilliant, 

 that, in the sunlight, it is, as with the labur- 

 num, of glowing fire rather than of mere colour 

 that we think. No more than in spring is there 

 always complete harmony. Often, in a single 

 tree, there will be but a patch of yellow, the 

 rest remaining a vivid green. In late autumn 

 some trees, such as the sycamore and the 



