THE SEASON OF BROWN LEAVES. 
185 
decay, and perishes; the individuals pass from existence 
one by one; they do not live as individual types, but 
collectively, as representatives of Man. So the year, with 
its manifold changes and unfoldings, its many forms, and 
colours, and voices, has its spiritual and moral analogies, 
which are infinitely more poetical and instructive than 
any of its details of animate or inanimate beauty. All 
through the universe the same few laws peep out under 
an unity of expression which makes them all parallel. 
Spring, summer, autumn, winter; infancy, youth, man¬ 
hood, age. The seasonal unfoldings of the individual; 
the spring, summer, autumn, and winter changes of the 
man are seen again in the progress of the race; and the 
ages of gold, silver, bronze, and iron are but other 
modes of expressing the same fact. The tree of life has 
its budding and blossoming, its fruitage and decay; 
and one simple thread of related harmony runs through 
all its metamorphoses. 
The leaves that brown p,ow, and fill the forest paths 
with pliant matting, from which, as we tread the soli¬ 
tude, a moist odour arises, were in their day rife with 
life and luxuriance; and having accomplished their work, 
go back to the soil whence they sprang, to supply the 
nourishment of another generation. All things change 
together as the autumn air creeps over the fields. The 
sun sinks slanting to an early bed; and the day, like 
the human heart after the shadows of many years have 
gathered upon it, is less merry than of yore. The 
golden corn becomes a grey stubble, the green tree a 
naked brush of branches, and death comes up from the 
grave to breathe a freezing air upon the world, and to 
