Herald and tribune. [volume] (Jonesborough, Tenn.) 1869-current, 1870-10-27
Indian sunraer-when,
BY FRED. S. CozzENs.


When the woods begins to change and
nature like dying dolphin, puts on its
richest hues, and the sunset is gorgeous,
and the smoke-like vapor begins to gather
on lake and water courses, and cicada have
hushed their evening orcestrs. and the
bullfrogs have ceased to pipe. and you
sometimes sec, at early dawn, hoar frost
on the meadow-tkat is Indian summer!
Or later, when the dried leaves, slow
ly winding down from branch to earth.
strip the forlorn tree, and the brown and
sturdy oak rustlcs bravely, with its rusty
foliage and the green grass is strewnwith
the pointed tawny leaves of the chestnut,
and the highway roads grow crisp, and
echo to the wheels of vehicles and the sky
and river seem as if they never could be
so blue, and thin haze hangs in the air
then we know that it is Indian summer
Or later-whenth the trees are all stripp-
ed, and their skeletons stand motionless
and inthe still air, and the open chest
nut burs still remain upon the ground
when all the leaves have been blown into
heaps and ridges, and wreaths of smoke
begin to curl up from rural chimncys, and
all the birds but unusual focks of spar
rows have flown, and the nights are cool
with frosty stars, and the days humid and
hazy-then that is Indian summer
Or latcr-whcn the grass begins to grow
gray, and the clouds grow asly and threat
ening, and the river looks cold and ghast-
iy, and the roads are in fiinty ridges, and a
furry of snow has scared away the spar
rows, and coal and kindiing wood advance
in price. and butchers grow rosy. and meat
is exhorbitant, and poultry is firm in price,
and every person says this is the first
touch of winter and, suddenly, the clouds
break, and the yellow sun comes out like
a Bridegroom rejoicing and warns up again
the dull earth and the hearts of men and
the blue vapor is seen again in the heart
of the shadowy woods. Then every bo-
dy says this is Indian summer.
Or later-when December has arrived
and we begin to overhaul the furry robes
of the horses and stable. and horses have
to be carefully blanketed when they cease
to trot, and men find BOW what ovcrcoats
we're made for, and children learn how
kind was grandmother's forethought when
she knitted the mittens-and the wind
howls, and the snow flies. and the rain
and sleet becomes binding, and the light
ming ceases TO flash, and the thunder to
explode in the sky, and then warm and
humid weather re-appears, and the mist
rises and, enveloping with its magic veil,
river, cliffs woods and plain, so that i'm
agination tricks up the barren landscape
with heritage, flower and foliage, and we
see in the flushing clouds the roseate hues
of gardens. and once more the misty plains
seem tempting to the tooth of grazing an
imals. and the foggy woods seem to be re-
loaded with foliage, and the bright squir-
rel comes from his hiding place, and now
and then solitary wasp crawls on the
window pane, and we begin to think we
have been premature with blankets, and
we sit by open windows, and let the house
furnace fret itself to ashes, and we begin
to anticipate the mildest of winters. then
every body says that is the Indian summer
When, then, is Indian summer? Is it
in the full change of the green leaf to the
infinite hues of October? Is it in the
November month
ERE o er the frozen earth the lond winds run,
Or SHOWS are sifted oer the meadows bare,
that it comes, like plumed and painted
warrior, or is it far beyond this period,
even in the bleak December, that this most
poetical of seasons appears with magic
touch to spread halo over our American
landscapes? Is it not blessed thing
one to subdue the heart with love and
ratitude-that we have not one Indian
summer alone, but many that during the
dreary months, this beautiful vision comes
and goes, and re-appears and vanishes, not
like the betic flush of decaying life, but
anticipating as it were, the rosy days Of
future summers? Is it not delightful
source of happiness to know that, even
amid the cold and tempestuous future,
some days will be bright and brief seasons
of thenselves-not singly, but followed
by many other days of gorgeous beauty
a secession as it were of Indian summers?
Is it an error to suppose that the eolored
foliage is the work of frost or decay. |
have seen the leaves turn. at the appoint
ed season, when not crystal has touched
a blade of grass-when the days and nights
were warma many in midsummer. 1t
is because the time has come for the ripen-
ing of the leaf. as it has come for the
ripening of the cheek of a Flemish beau
ty, or Duchesse D'Angoulcme.
- Thank the, Creator of all seasons that
we have dozens of Indian summers between
October and january.
z But do not look for them after the last
da i of December. After Christmas, comes
the New Year, and no more summers
Bnt it is still season of hope In Janua-
ry, when the sun gets stronger, then we be-
gin to look for Spring for the early
croeus blooming amid the snow-for the
resurrection of the earth"--for the tiny
bluebird building its hopeful nest-for the
mould and fructifyihg showers.
Such, even, is human life. Many heart
grows prematurely wintryo deseiate and
cold, while Others. in advanced age carry
with them sort of frost-bitten bloom. and
live and bask in an atmosphere of Indian
SUMMERS. fsaaaE se asl. -
snA YOUNG man in ObioTecentiy opened
a clothing store, and, was sent to Jail for
it. Reason the clothing Store belonged
to another man. "a sssi - Il oK aes9saosF
.at.ss,sg5srsy u Lz<--. h..-- l. Ia1I4sq
MAS it your eldest daughter, madam
that was bittensb BY a monkey y. sNo. SIR,
il twas my youngest. My eldest daughter
had worse misfortune; she married a