CHAPTER XVII 
MARTINMAS SUMMER 
Has time grown sleepy at his post 
And let the exiled summer back? 
Or is it her regretful ghost 
Or witchcraft of the almanac? 
—E. R. Sill. 
THE still, sunny fall days are the serene old age 
of summer. In them they year seems to go back, 
as old people sometimes do, to the memories and 
ways of her early youth, and October and No- 
vember sometimes behave like April, to the utter 
confusion and ultimate destruction of the flowers. 
For the flowers, not having ‘‘ evoluted’’ to the use 
of almanacs, must regulate their affairs by guess- 
work, and when the sun shines brightly above 
them, and the earth feels warm and moist about 
their roots, they are grievously deceived, and mis- 
take the Indian summer for the spring. 
So it is by no means uncommon to find spring 
blossoms in late autumn, and this is especially apt 
to be the case when the early fall has been rainy. 
A week or two of mild and showery weather will 
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