NUTS 



Now that Nature's duns and browns and yellows 

 have picked out the hedgerows, the nuts have 

 become embrowned at their tops. In the woods 

 the shaggy clusters hang in picturesque profusion, 

 and here and there cause the branches to droop 

 by their weight. 



A hazel copse in September is the very embodi- 

 ment of autumn. The field of golden grain which 

 lay by its margin like a great patch of sunlight on 

 the landscape has given way to the stubble, and the 

 brown partridges feeding upon this give another 

 characteristic touch to the season. Where the nut- 

 bushes stand out to the sun the nuts are already 

 rosy; deeper in the woods they are still of the green 

 of the leaves. It is pleasant to watch the progress 

 of the nuts; and as I stand among the bushes my 

 memory carries me back to the early days of March. 

 Then the pendulous catkins swung in the breeze 

 and wafted their golden pollen broadcast. Nature 

 is prolific in her waste, and here was a capital in- 

 stance. The almost microscopic red female flowers 



started from beneath the scales of the buds, and 



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