268 
NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
Autumn 
glory. 
Indian 
summer, 
And what of the autumn glory of the trees ! 
What of the changes here that mark the ebbing 
season, beginning with the first maple-leaf that 
turns yellow in September and ending only with 
the dark, wine-red leaf of the oak left fluttering 
alone against the blue sky of December! Out 
of the green of summer, into the yellow, the 
pink, and the red of autumn, the great pro- 
cession moves. The chlorophyll has exhausted 
its power in the leaf-cells, the green is bleached, 
the yellow must follow, and finally the russet 
of decay. The transitions are even but rapid. 
The different stages come and go, the hues 
passing from one into the other so softly, so 
easily, that before we know it the whole face 
of nature is changed and the panorama of the 
scarlet fall is before us. How swiftly the days 
fly, and when there comes that lull called 
Indian summer, how we wish it would last for- 
ever! But the great globe spins like a potter’s 
wheel, and the coloring that this week stains the 
valley of the Hudson with carmines and saff- 
rons, will next week be shifted southward to 
the shores of the Delaware. The splendor 
moves with the sun, northward in the spring, 
southward in the autumn. A fortnight or more 
and the gorgeous leaves of the hills, torn by the 
