Trees, Shrubs and Vines 
tude, with such eternal company? And these things 
have that best of all friendly tact of somehow always 
blending with our own humors—ingenious sympathizers 
with the ups and downs of life. Art thou in sorrow, 
the mournful pines sing the same sad song ; nature 
echoes all our joys, and they are emphasized ; she mir- 
rors all our glooms ; but they are so softened as to be 
almost rubbed out ; and we find painted there, what no 
other artist-colors can reproduce, in spring our pros- 
pects, and in fall our retrospects. 
With such running to and fro of our thoughts it is not 
strange that one scene will often call up another scene 
that is in striking contrast ; and there is a peculiar rem- 
iniscence of spring atmosphere and bloom when in the 
changed autumnal days we look upon the cool, ripe fruits 
of black haw, thorn-tree or mountain-ash, shining in the 
September and October sun. Sometimes brilliant colors 
thus ripen out of inconspicuous flowers, but commonly 
it is the fine blossom that develops into showy fruit. 
Berries of every tint—white, blue, red, purple, black 
—hanging amid the russet foliage reward an autumn’s 
walk in every woods, some only fit for show, others 
tempting morsels for the winter birds. Almost the 
earliest are those of the alternate-leaved dogwood, 
whose dainty blue clusters on bright red stems can be 
found toward the last of August. Then come the white 
berries of the panicled dogwood, with the deep blue 
fruit of the silky dogwood, and the large black clusters 
of the maple-leaved arrow-wood ; surely such splendid- 
looking berries must be edible; you try it—and you 
will never try it again. 
40 
