AUTUMN. 
337 
and year after year the song must become fuller, and sweeter, and 
clearer. 
In those parts of this continent which answer to the medium 
climates of Europe, and where Autumn has a decided character 
of her own, the season is indeed a noble one. Rich in bounty, 
ripening the blended fruits of two hemispheres, beauty is also her 
inalienable dower. Clear skies and cheerful breezes are more 
frequent throughout her course than storms or clouds. Fogs are 
rare indeed. Mild, balmy airs seem to dehglit in attending her 
steps, while the soft haze of the Indian summer is gathered like a 
choice veil about her brows, throwing a charm of its own over 
every feature. The grain-harvest has been given to Summer ; of 
all its treasures, she preserves alone the fragrant buckwheat and 
the golden maize. The nobler fruits are all hers — the finer 
peaches and plums, the choicest apples, pears, and grapes. The 
homely, but precious root-harvest belongs to her — winter stores 
for man and his herds. And now, when the year is drawing to a 
close, when the blessings of the earth have been gathered and 
stored, when every tree and plant has borne its fruits, when every 
field has yielded its produce, why should the sun shine brightly 
now ? What has he more to ripen for us at this late day ? 
At this very period, when the annual labors of the husbandman 
are drawing to a close, when the first light frosts ripen the wild 
grapes in the woods, and open the husks of the hickory-nuts, 
bringing the latest fruits of the year to maturity, these are the 
days when, here and there, in the groves you will find a maple-tree 
whose leaves are touched with the gayest colors ; those are the 
heralds which announce the approach of a brilliant pageant — the 
moment chosen by Autumn to keep the great harvest-home of 
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