312 OUR ROCK-GARDEN 



laden with hoar-frost it is a peep into veritable 

 fairyland. 



In October again we have not only our brilliantly 

 coloured fungi but the changing tints of our Autumn 

 foliage are in perfection. The variation of tint is 

 very great ; each tree, each shrub, each plant, has 

 its own colour. The maple will be found a mass of 

 tawny-yellow, the black bryony a trail of bronzed 

 purple, the herb Robert a clump of crimson. We do 

 not of course imply that in no two different plants 

 can we find the same tint, but that each plant 

 always has its own livery. The maple does not vary 

 to purple any more than the ripening wheat does, 

 and any one who has noticed the matter carefully 

 could name the trees and bushes in a hedgerow 

 half a mile away by their differences of Autumn tint. 

 Even when the frost and wind together have stripped 

 the foliage away the fruits ordinarily remain undis- 

 turbed. 



An old writer declares that " he who in all things 

 eyes a Providence shall never lack a Providence to 

 eye," and we may say equally that he who goes out 

 to seek interest and beauty in Nature shall never 

 fail of his quest. As the year travels its appointed 

 road each recurring season brings with it interest 

 and beauty of its own. 



" Could we but open and intend our eyes, 

 We each, like Moses, should espy 

 E'en in a bush the radiant Deity." 



