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 

 earhest 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. 



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