SIGNS OF AUTUMN 241 



the emerald ceiling of the thicket has had a long 

 life-history, though limited to a few months of 

 sun and rain. Without the joys or sorrows of 

 animals, it has been quickened by sunshine ; the 

 sap has coursed through its veins ; and the micro- 

 phone has enabled us to detect the tinkling and 

 rippling of the currents in its fibrous courses. 

 Perhaps the tiny gnat, which we see without 

 interest and crush without thought, may be able to 

 hear this music, and enjoy its rhythmical vibra- 

 tion. Each bronzing film of autumn has had 

 experiences akin to those of many a higher organ- 

 ism. Nature seemed to herald its birth ; she is 

 silent at its death. When May first smiled the 

 young leaves pressed against the protecting sheath 

 of the bud ; at last the barriers yielded, and the 

 world was around them. The sun invigorated 

 them, and their powers were increased. They ex- 

 panded and spread little hands to the blaze, sails 

 to the breeze ; and the vital tides surged through 

 their veins. Immovable, they not the less tra- 

 versed currents of soft air rich from field and 

 forest. The birds sang among them ; rain re- 

 freshed them ; clouds shielded them from the 

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