224 the associations of flowers 
ings of their hearts in loud bursts of sang, among woods 
where lately were heard only the loud harsh tone of the 
missel-thrush, as he sat in the pearly-berried mistletoe, or 
the low, sweet song of the robin, who, " with all his 
feathers seemed a-cold.” Spring returns, and the iamb 
bounds away over the grass of the meadow, the leaves 
burst from their brown buds, fruit trees wear a dress of 
flowers, and the daisies, primroses, and violets — and 
where shall we find a wreath so expressive to the human 
heart of much that it loves and hallows ? — are making the 
lanes and fields gay and fragrant with their beauty and 
their wealth of odours. The joyous spirit of youth and 
childhood enters into the exhilaration of the scene, and 
gives a ready credence to its promises of a long season 
of liveliness and pleasure. 
But autumn has its delights to those who, having known 
sorrow, find its pensive character more in unison with their 
quiet musings. To many the silent sympathy of nature is 
more soothing than the consolations even of the human 
voice. There is a stillness, a sublimity, in the close of 
an autumn day, when the shadows of the evening are 
stretched out, which inclines to meditation. The breezes 
may then, in their low utterings, be aptly compared to 
sighs; the daily fading away of the flowers, and the fall 
of the withered leaf, speak to the thoughtful, like a voice 
from the dying, of change and decay. And yet, how 
much of beauty is there mingled with the sadness 1 How 
rich the colours which glow on the summits of the wood- 
land boughs, green, brown, yellow, in all their varieties ! 
— ^here a dark patch of rich green, colouring those trees 
whose foliage will last through the winter ; there an olive 
tinge, or one that is fast fading; now a crimson bough, 
and again a dark grey-looking mass, which seems as if it 
stood there to show to advantage the gayer colours of its 
neighbours. And then, too, how beautiful is an autumnal 
sunset, shedding a golden light on field and wood, till all 
seems one wide scene of lustrous brilliance. 
There is scarcely any flower which, more than the 
Michaelmas-daisy, seems identified with autumn. The 
chrysanthemums linger through a part of the winter, and 
may, in fact, be considered, with the laurustinus, as winter 
flowers; but the Michaelmas-daisy is the last of the sum- 
