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Updated: June 27, 2025
Joseph's, a trim little Gothic house covered with the oiled curls of an ampelopsis still undyed by autumn's henna. "You've chosen a bad day to come to lunch," said Monseigneur with a warning shake of the head. "It's Friday, you know. And it's hard to get decent fish away from the big towns."
Stop an' have some supper, won't ye, Mis' Price?" as the thin old creature was flitting off again. At that same moment this kind invitation was repeated from the door of the house; and Mrs. Price turned in, unprotesting and always sociably inclined, at the open gate. It was a month later, and a whole autumn's length colder, when the two men were coming home from a long tramp through the woods.
As if to heighten the rapture of my mood, the day was full of sunshine, and though the woods crowding the upper glen were leafless and slumbering, they were touched to something like autumn's gold. Some people love the country but in the time of leafage!
The planet has described its vast orbit ere it be grown and finished. All seasons are its servitors; all contradictions and extremes of nature meet in its making. The vernal patience of the warming soil; the long, fierce arrows of the summer heat, the long, silvery arrows of the summer rain; autumn's dead skies and sobbing winds; winter's sternest, all-tightening frosts.
Here ordered vines in equal ranks appear, With all the united labors of the year; Some to unload the fertile branches run, Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun, Others to tread the liquid harvest join, The groaning presses foam with floods of wine. Here are the vines in early flower descried, Here grapes discolored on the sunny side, And there in Autumn's richest purple dyed.
How the sweet chimes this Sunday morn, 'Mid autumn's requiem, Across the mountain valleys borne, The bells of Bethlehem! "Come join with us," they seem to say, "And celebrate this hallowed day!" Our hearts leap up with glad accord Judea's Bethlehem strain, That once ascended to the Lord, Floats back to earth again, As round our hills the echoes swell To "God with us, Emanuel!"
Here and there, a scarlet tree or bush shot out its sanguine hue, betokening the maturity of the season and the near approach of autumn's latest splendor. Big boulders of granite, overlaid with lichens, were profusely ornamented with crimson creepers. Everything appeared in splendid and wasteful confusion.
Autumn's sere leaves had fallen from the trees, and the hedgehogs had found such a plentiful supply of all kinds of food that they were ready for their winter sleep, when a gipsy boy, the proud possessor of a terrier trained for hunting hedgehogs, set forth in haste one evening from his tent by the wayside above the farm.
These learned, he returned home; and the next day presented Sir Maurice with a scroll, containing the following lines: "Twenty times shall Avon's tide In chains of glistening ice be tied Twenty times the woods of Leigh Shall wave their brunches merril In spring burst forth in mantle gay, And dance in summer's scorching ray: Twenty times shall autumn's frown, Wither all their green to brown And still the child of yesterday Shall laugh the happy hour away.
Their hue, at a distance, is lustrous scarlet, although it does not look nearly as bright and gorgeous when examined close at hand. But at a proper distance it is a beautiful fringe on Autumn's petticoat. Friday, October 22d. A continued succession of unpleasant, Novembery days, and autumn has made rapid progress in the work of decay.
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