266 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



The landscape from any comprehensive point of view 

 still shows a wealth of foliage, although it is the first week 

 of November, 1887, and until very recently it was neces- 

 sary to search for colored leaves. Here, about the home 

 meadows, the painting of the woods is an uncertain occur- 

 rence. The frosts of October dulled the freshness of the 

 leaves as a whole, but many held their summer hue for 

 weeks after, and others will do so to the very last, and 

 finally turn brown, wither, and fall in wonderfully quick 

 succession, the whole change occurring within two or 

 three days. 



There are always, it is true, maples, liquidambars, and 

 Virginia creepers that show a varied range of red and yel- 

 low just as in August the tupelo turns crimson but 

 these make up but a small part of the woods. 



To-day I have been rambling in a ravine where trickle 

 the waters of a hundred springs, gathering "autumnal 

 leaves that strow the brook," and I culled them while 

 standing among green ferns, fresh-leaved privet, and in 

 the shade of white oaks. The latter will retain their foli- 

 age, although crisp and brown, until the coming March 

 winds blow. Indeed, I have seen them cling to the 

 branches until apparently pushed off by the swelling leaf- 

 buds of the new year. The privet will be green until 

 January at least, and sometimes until later ; but the ferns 

 are quite contradictory. Last winter I found them fresh 

 as a May morning along the roadside, and in an exposed 

 position, yet in what appeared to be more sheltered spots 

 the same species in October had withered and disap- 

 peared. 



It is really an open question whether or not the frost 

 kills the leaves of our forest trees, or is the cause of their 

 changing color ; and there are grounds for thinking that 

 the two occurrences are merely synchronous, and have 

 from this fact been considered as cause and effect. We 



