CHAPTER IX. 



SEPTEMBER. 



THE Delaware Indians called September Kitschitacli- 

 quoach gischuch ! and this is said by Heekewalder to sig- 

 nify " the autumn month." This is next to meaningless, 

 and I suggest as nearer the Indians' meaning, and cer- 

 tainly more appropriate, the Moon of the First Frost. I 

 doubt if ever the month passes without some trace of it, 

 and until it comes, the month differs nothing from the 

 one preceding. Every rambler has noticed how song 

 gives place to silence toward the end of August. The 

 monotony of soulless sunshine has proved irksome, and 

 the birds that have not already departed cluster by the 

 dripping springs. The squirrels, until now a timid and 

 day-shunning folk, thread the tall, out-reaching oaks, 

 tapping, in ill-humor, at the still resisting acorns. Im- 

 patience is now the moving factor of the animal world, 

 and with it is sulky silence. Furred and feathered life, 

 alike, are heartily tired of summer and await a change 

 do they know what ? He who is given to country rambles 

 has long since learned the secret it is the first frost. 



The first frost does not usher in a new season, but re- 

 news the summer. Sleepy, silent August days, half stifled 

 in a worn-out atmosphere, are the really melancholy ones, 

 " the saddest of the year " ; but at once, with the first 

 frost, is activity renewed. This earliest intimation of the 

 on-coming winter need not be everywhere. You will find 



