THE AUTUMN WOOD-PATH 



THE woods are never so full of interest 

 and fascination as when the first frosts have 

 touched the leaves, and purified the crisp, 

 nipping air, and filled the forest with that 

 expectant hush that follows the insect-hum 

 and bird-music of summer. Then, as one 

 walks along the quiet wood-path, he expe- 

 riences again something of the vanished 

 child-sense of fairyland. The forest aisles 

 are full of mystery; the glint of sunshine 

 in near-by glades and the flicker of falling 

 golden leaves mingle like fact and fancy; 

 and in the hush and glimmer and beauty of 

 the scene one expects to see anything, from 

 fairies dancing on the moss, to princes and 

 princesses riding suddenly across the path, 

 with plumes and jewels and jingling bri- 

 dles. An enchanted place is the October 

 wood. You wonder at the change that has 

 come over it since the thrush and the vireo 

 and the warbler packed their flutes and 

 started slowly and silently southward. 

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