184 
THE SEASON OF BROWN LEAVES. 
Itace after race of leaves and men 
Bloom, wither, and are gone; 
As winds and waters rise and fall, 
So life and death roll on. 
And ever as the ocean heaves 
So life and death roll on ; 
Drop, drop into thy grave, old leaf, 
Drop, drop into thy grave.” 
Elliott. 
The spring time came with green and gladness, and the 
summer followed with its rosy flowers and fruits; and 
now, after so brief a season of exuberance, the green 
things fade and die, and the joy of the year withers with 
the browming of the leaf. Tor a few moments, ere the 
branches are stripped of all their russet glories, let us 
reflect on these autumn changes as they hint of analogies 
in life and nature, and suggest ideas of hope and duty. 
That view of the world which represents the outward 
and material forms, as perishable symbols of imperishable 
ideas, is that which should guide our first steps into this 
region of comparison and speculation. Nature is a 
series of progressions or unfoldings, and all her creatures 
are representative of ideas. The human form sinks into 
