Rich gift of Cod! A year of time! 



What pomp of rise and shut of day. 

 What hues reherervith our northern clime 



Makes autumn's dropping reoodlands gay. 

 What airs outhloTvn from ferny dells. 

 And clover-bloom and srveethrier smells 

 What songs of brooks and birds, what fruits and 



fioxvers, 

 Creen woods and moonlit snows, have in its round 

 been ours! 



John Greenleaf Whittier. 



"The Last Walk in Autumn" 



Let the youth make haste to Fontainebleau, and 

 once there let him address himself to the spirit of 

 the place; he will learn more from exercise than 

 from studies, although both are necessary; and if he 

 can get into his heart the gaiety and inspiration of 

 the woods, he will have gone far to undo the 

 evil of his sketches. A spirit once well strung up 

 to the concert pitch of the primeval out-of-doors will 

 hardly dare to finish a study and magniloquently 

 ticket it a picture! 



R. L. Stevenson. 



in "Fontainebleau" 



299 



