CHAPTER XVI 
THE SLEEPING OF THE FIELDS 
“A Sabbath of rest unto the land.” 
—Leviticus xxv. 4, 
UNLESS one is blessed with a contented mind, 
a well-filled purse, and a good digestion, it is some- 
times difficult to fight off depression in these au- 
tumn days, when we think we see all about us in 
the outdoor world the work of the great reaper, 
Death. The woodland paths are littered with fallen 
leaves, the hardiest garden-flowers have lost their 
brightness, and even the wild asters have doffed 
their queenly splendors of purple and gold and are 
gray and sombre, like Guinevere, grown old and 
turned nun. 
Now, on stormy nights, the wind sounds a differ- 
ent note from any that we have heard in summer, 
and goes by with a low howl like that of some 
strong, savage thing into whose power the poor earth 
is soon to fall helpless. Yet the reign of the Frost 
King is beneficent. Difficult though it may be to 
convince ourselves of this truth, in wet November 
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