The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1875-10-23
acknowledgement
autumn in the Woods.

lac couli be when We strolled into the
a I'd. The atmosphere possessed that
;,Jo.rribable soitness, and the sky that
,i mil blue, which belongs to the sea:
Wv" II was nearly mid.autumn, and
sou, the as,ers we're beyond their prime,
g nv, from now on till the middle Of No
n pa. there are colors in the forest TO
isIsbt an artists eye. We do not speak
w mnch OF the gorgeous tints as Of those
sS,Jss Of lumber, Of brown and OF purple,
vbich grow iairer every day.
Ws have said that the asters are nearly
zane, 90 have the golden rods, their com.
sO ,n;ons vel We find q few blosSoming in
X" ,bicEets and by the rOadsides, The
. 'v dandelion Is still yellow In the
sras., and the white yaFrow blossoms on
ssShyious Of approaching frosts.
Much has been written Of the iringed
,oH,i,n but not too much, 1t is ever
ssT and ever beautiful, fresh, COO deli.
" "s,s loving and withal most lOvable. 1t
Va "nc Of those flowers which seem TO pos.
49, "S" soul, something responsive to our
Imam sympathy. II knows very we'll
now much sadness there Is in this life Of
nUr Init ils counsel ia ever hopeful and
oSSsry We feel, in looking at It, that
,SS better days will come, il not here, at
ISs,t in somi happier existence beyond
these earthly chickering's and petty ieal'
o",ies We found one to-day into which
bnnble.bec had plunged head foremost,
ia was very sluggish when we logged his
shaw and seemed unwilling to retreat,
ps,baps tho nectar had intoxicated him,
bii nny one, We wonder, ever attempt the
cultivation Of the gentianp Can anything
20 mild and coy be made to thrive in a
Tbc ferns, though somewhat past their
glory are very lovely still, We saw one
eIump Of Dicksonias, elegant in green and
Vold. The traCery was beyond all ex-
PRESTON delicate. These ferns often fade
out white, when they arc exceedingly or
nanental. Occasionally we find one
half Of irond green and the other yell
low; summer and autumn, side by
side.
Did our English visitors catch a glim'
p,e Of the woods on that perfect day
when they were here2 Such view would
be souvenir indeed; something worth
crossing the Atlantic to sec, We would
have liked to pilot them to certain cosy
hooks where they would have dreamed
in peace. Indeed, many Of the October
DAYS are dream.like. A we walk by the
bank Of the rivulGt, under Overurching
birches, the sunlight Is sitted through
the golden leaves. ltfalls upon us In
tremulous CLEANS and shadows. Our
eyes followed the narrow pathway wind.
ingup the hill and lost in mysterious
foliage. So like Is the scene to some
Tennysonian wOrd.picture that we al'
most expect to see Sir LaunCelOt or Sir
Gllahad descend the way on horseback.
We see tho sunlight glance from the ar.
NOR; we note the tossing Of the knightly
plume. The weird exCresCGncs upon the
oak trees, gnarled and grim, seem like
the COLLINS which this Chivalry Is TO con-
quer. 1t Is difficult to believe that there
has not been combat there, for we find
tho maple leaves around US despatched
@ with blood The crimsOning foliage Is
the relic Of the conflict. Again, we i'm.
agine an even older time and q fairy
land, and drift with Mr.. Morris into the
hay realm Of mythology. How could
this poet have written his idylls without
knowledge Of an America autumn,
They arc sweet with the perfume OF life.
everlasting.
We have seen picture look almost
unreal In its wealth Of color, yet nature
is more layishStill. She does not spare
either yellow or scarlet, or crimson, In
her landscapes. Sometimes neglecting
the rest Of the picture, she will throw one
tree into high relief, by painting 1t in
some gaudy dye, She makes the very
water, rejecting the forest, to glow with
brilliant cOlOrs. The tnta which prodi.
gal autumn throws away, which we
tramplG into dust beneath our feet, would
put to shame our artificial pigments.
Not only are the leaves superb in color,
but their shapes are infinite and their
texture varied Beauty and grace Of out.
line is added to delicacy Of hue. Look
at those sumacs yondcr, their leaflets
hang in rows like the trophy banners In
st. Georges Chapel. See that hickory
clothed in yellow, that beech In richest
brown, and ash In oliye.green or purple,
Every tree has q color Of lie own, and
tho air ia self seems to imbibe the sum
oiull until we feel az II we were breath.
Ing color. Let the jewellers Of the tropics
boast as they will Of gorgeous flowers, Of
palms and ferns, and orchards; we would
rather one hour Of our American autumn
than Cycle Of Cathay."