CHAPTER IX. 



CAUGHT IN A COBWEB. THE SPIDER'S PLAN. 



HE days now began to grow very 

 short ; and when the rain fell, 

 as it often did, it chilled the 

 sodden ground, and was fol- 

 lowed by cold, unhealthy fogs, 

 instead of by the warm sweet 

 smell that rises from the earth 

 after a summer shower. The 

 wind wailed dismally through 

 the trees, stripping them of their many-colored 

 leaves, and preparing them for rougher weather to- 

 come — as sailors take in canvas before the approach 

 of a gale. 



The few flowers that were left, were fading 



