VOICES FROM THE WOODLANDS. 



fruits replace the flowers of summer, and the mellow apples, 

 whose golden hue is often heightened by rich streaks of 

 carmine, weigh down the branch that bears them ? 



Such an orchard stood contiguous to the " old house at 

 home " where my young days passed. It might be seen at 

 a considerable distance, for the orchard was extensive, and 

 lay on the slope of a considerable hill. Pleasant sounds 

 were there : bees came from far, to gather honey from the 

 blossoms, and singing birds built their nests among the 

 branches ; the murmur of rushing waters also came remotely 

 on the ear, with the cheerful songs of labourers in the 

 mowing season. That orchard, with its blended white and 

 pink blossoms, could never be sufficiently admired ; thoughts 

 of quietness, and beauty, and perfection were awakened in 

 the minds of many as they passed. 



In autumn the scene was animating. Ladders were put 

 against the trees, and the choicest apples were carefully 

 gathered, while such as were designed for making cider 

 were shaken to the ground. Meanwhile, women and 



