84 DANVIS FARM LIFE 



rough, prickly, and somewhat coarse, even in its 

 flowers, wanders forth from its parent hill, through 

 bordering wilderness of aftermath and over Rocky 

 Mountains of walls, overcoming all and bearing 

 golden fruit afar off, yet always holding on to the 

 old home, Yankee-like, and drawing its sap and 

 life therefrom ! 



Whether or not the frost has come to blacken 

 the leaves of the pumpkins, squashes, and cucum- 

 bers and to hasten the ripening of the foliage, the 

 trees are taking on the autumnal colors. The ash 

 shows the first grape-bloom of its later purple, the 

 butternut is blotched with yellow, and the leaves 

 of the hickory are turning to gold; and though the 

 greenness of the oaks and some of the sugar- 

 maples and elms still endures, the sumacs along 

 the walls and the water-maples and pepperidges 

 in the lowlands are red with the consuming fires of 

 autumn. The yellow flame of the goldenrods has 

 burned out and the paler lamps of the asters are 

 lighted along the fences and woodsides. 



The apples are growing too heavy to hold longer 

 to the parent branch, and, with no warning but the 

 click of intercepting leaves, tumble, perhaps, on 

 the head of some unprofitable dreamer even in 

 practical New England. They are ready for gath- 

 ering, and the Greenings, Northern Spies, Spitz- 

 enbergs, Russets, Pomeroys, and Tallman Sweets, 

 and all whose virtues or pretensions have gained 



