TH E BEECH WOODS, 



One afternoon early in October the 

 Neighbour felt the call to the open and 

 rambled across the fields, climbed 

 through the rail fence in the lane, and 

 stopped for a moment to gaze upon the 

 scene that lay before him. Autumn's 

 gorgeous pageant stood waiting in the 

 mellow golden light. The polychrome 

 of colour went rippling across the face 

 of the woods in waves and splashes of 

 russet, green, aureolin and red, while 

 the wild barbaric flame of the giant 

 maple rose above the canopy of trees 

 like the sceptre of an Autumn king. 

 Out in the fields a solitary hickory 

 stood in livery of gold, cherry clumps 

 were brushed with rusty yellow, and 

 lowland ash turned a purplish tint. 

 From horizon to horizon the panoramic 

 pageant stretched in richest splendour 

 and softly disappeared in the smoky 

 haze of the dim distance. The lazy 

 drone of insect music was borne in 

 upon the senses, and the lonesome call 

 of birds came from the etherical wastes 

 above. This was a day when Nature 

 seemed to softly doze, and dozing 

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