Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-11-03
Autumn's Glories,
tFrom the New York Times.

tFrom the New York Times.]
1t is delightful to watch the coming
and passing autumn in New England.
The golden-rod, watchful sentinel, first
heralds It's approaching afar off. AS
early as the middle of August it's yellow
blossoms cover the pastures and hide the
unsightly weeds and brambles at the
roadside. The purple marguerite fol-
lows closely, and profusely, peeping out
the tangle OF stalks and grasses where
everthe golden-rod grows A few weeks
later, but before any forest leaves have
turned, the sensitive sunac, even before
1T is touched by the frost, surprises the
eye by a sudden change from dull green
to bright and beautiful red. It may
be seen on steep slopes, in pastures
where the cattle do not feed, in neglect
ed spots about the farm buildings, in
fence-corners, and at the roadside, wher-
ever the farmers scythe spares it's
growth. At it's root the poison ivy often
grows, and about the same time, by the
middle Of September, usually, it's leaves
taken on a glossy red hue. Then the
woodbine climbing lawlessly over what
ever trees it can reach in swamps and
dells, or swinging on string from the
chamber window, charms the eve with it's
brilliant red leaves. Then comes the
frost. The soft naples feel of it's first
visit, their leaves turning red and yellow
before other forest trees show that they
have felt the chill. The other naples
and the beeches, oaks, poplars and
birches enjoy but a brief immunity,
however. A sharp and unmistakable
frost nlps their tender twigs towards the
end OF September; and the observant eve
notes its effects in hundred places in
the landscape over which it sweeps. A
great maple standing in the open land.
by the bank of stream, puts off it's mid
summer vendure in a single night for a
coat Of many colors, in which red pre-
dominates, with sprinkling of yellow,
and perhaps a remnant of green, now
dimmed and faded. Sometimes half
tree top will change, and the other half
stubbornly resist the frost for two weeks
longer. Here and there upon the wood
ed slopes, a maple or poplar flames out
week in advance of its neighbors, and
stands a brilliant prophecy Of the newt
able change. The poplar leaf turns
waXen yellow, not glossy, but richer
than the birch. Oaks supply the deep
est tone in the picture, dark subdued
red. By the first week in October these
changes, if not already accomplished, as
is the case i'll years of exceptionally early
frosts, are rapidly going on. Ten days
ago the Connecticut river valley was in
a blaze Of splendor. The mountain Wis
itors who overstays the usual vacation
time is always richly repaid for his morn
ing shivering by the delight of the home
ward journey through this valley. The
wide world cannot show a richer spec
tacle. The forest slopes are gorgeous
with wealth of color that enraptures
the soul, and makes one forget art and
nature alike in deep admiration of what
seems the hardiwo1k of the Creator him.
self. Only narrow and conventional
creatures talk of the ''prodr1cts of east
ern looms " in describing the glory of
the October woods in New England. To
all others their magniicence is seen and
felt to be unique and comparable with
nothing else. Nature is not afraid to
brighten colors IN masses. She was not
reared in a French school, and has no
liking for the washed-out inanities of the
dwadling impressionists. She puts
into her forest picture not dash. but
ten acres OF the most brilliant red, mix
ed with yellows and russets and scarlets,
and the result is indefinitely pleasing.
When the landscape, as a whole, has
been sufficiently admired, there was a
Thousand details to attract and charm.
The wantOn bitter sweet is climbing over
fence and tree, and the yellow husk is
now just opening, showing the scarlet
berry beneath. The red thorn apple
tempts oneto the dangerous feat of pick
ing 1t from among its long keen-pointed
spines. The spotted alder profers it's
bright berries, and you pluck them only
to wonder why they should be SO pretty
and SO tasteless. There are wild grapes
along the stream, purple and luscious.
Lie down in the woods on still after
noon and you hear and see nature at her
work, unmindful of your presence. The
beech-nuts patter down like rain from
the opening burs upon the dry leaves.
The acorns drop heavily from the tall
oaks. Every breeze that shakes the
tree-tops deepens on the forest leaf-bed.
The nut hunting grey squirrel and his
little red cousin come almost upon YOU
and then scamper off in fright, but the
audacions chipmunk will sit two rods
away and scold at you for hours. The
rutfed grouse spies you, stands stock
still for an instant, and then rises on its
strong. wings with resounding whir.
Among these busy little tenants of the
forest, and with SO much that is beauti-
full about, to do nothing is a deep de-
light. Chase serious thinking from the
mind at such fortunate moments, and be
sure that no forecast of bleak winter and
its gloomy work comes to mar your
pleasant fancies.
MAKING a Joke ia like sninnino, q tom