54 
NATURE NOTES. 
Indian summer, the sky is a clear blue, and over all there rests 
that faint bluish haze of autumn, which lends an air of unreality 
to the scene, intensified by the stillness. 
Dyrchave is not the only beautiful w'ood, although it is the 
most lovely of those in the vicinity of Copenhagen, and has, in 
fact, no rival. Charlottenlund (lund=wood) is only a quarter of 
an hour from the city by train, and the delightful woods round 
the lake of Fureso are at no prohibitive distance. Cylonons, 
too, is the park surrounding the Castle of Fredensborg, where 
the blue waters of Esrom Lake are framed in yellow beeches. 
The autumn lover will also find a pathetic beauty in a visit to 
Skodsborg, which is reached either by a humble omnibus or 
walking from Klampenborg. It is one of the favourite seaside 
resorts of Copenhageners, but by the beginning of October it is 
practically deserted, the country houses closed and empty (for 
they are generally furnished for the summer only), the hotels 
closed, and the solemn woods keeping guard over it till its 
resurrection in May. This is the same with all Danish holiday 
resorts. It is certainly more inspiriting to wander home through 
the woods, where the pungent smell of fallen leaves is heavy on 
the air ; even then that bitter sweet feeling, “ wild with all 
regret,” which autumn engenders will not be wanting, though 
“ the happy autumn fields,” and the bright foliage in the city 
itself do much to soothe the longing for “ the days that are no 
more.” 
Bella Sidney Woolf. 
A HERALD OF SPRING. 
As I walked ’neath the chestnut trees, 
I heard a song, a sound of spring. 
Borne on the welcome western wind 
Right merrily did it outring. 
Telling of sunny days in store 
When winter’s cold should be no more. 
It was no thrush or blackbird lay 
That brought the joy of spring to mind. 
And made us dream of mirth and May, 
And made us long May flowers to find ; 
Only a merry chaffinch note. 
That on the western wind did float. 
Not very loud or very long. 
This first sweet carol of the spring. 
Nor half so sweet as many a song 
That round us soon will gladly ring ; 
But all the joy from May to June, 
Lived in that little singer’s tune. 
