A FORETASTE OF AUfUMN 



TO the docile eye a meadow spring can 

 furnish a tide of discourse* I chanced 

 upon a sloping bank to-day, brilliant as a 

 garden tilled with care. Nature at times is 

 a fantastic florist. Yellow, red, and white 

 blooms were profusely scattered in the rank 

 grass, yet free of all rough, weedy character. 

 The bees hummed no less happily because 

 positive wilderness was lacking, and the 

 cricket's cheery chirping rang out as gladly 

 as where the tangled briers hid what remained 

 of a long-negleted fence. Here I might 

 have gathered strawberries a month ago, and 

 raspberries later, for this spot had once been 

 a garden, I am more than sure ; there still 

 is a trace of a boxwood hedge. The canes 

 of the raspberries were richly colored, and 

 would have warmed the landscape had it not 

 been an August day. They sprawled over 

 the ground and looked like gigantic purple 

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