The Windham County reformer. (Battleboro, Vt.) 1876-1897, 1882-09-29

All along the country roads the green
fern borders are changing to brown and
gold the great green globes of the ma
pies are streaked with scarlet and bar
red with yellow, the golden rod crowds
the fence corners and waves its brilliant
plumes in rocky pastures, the clematis
twines its smoky white wreath among
the roadside branches, or droops in with
cred softness over the great gray rocks,
while the few frail flowers of summer
which have fingered late seem to shrink
in vain effort to hide themselves from
the too rough caresses of the Autumn
queen, so different from the languid love
kisses of their rightful ruler, Summer
and silently through the cool clear air
the leaves are beginning to fall. This is
the time when Nature in in her mo-
ments of fullest happiest perfection, yet
seems to feel thrill Of sorrow through
all her veins, and, like the swan to sing
as she dies. We all hear her song. No
one can 20 out in the cool fragrant air of
autumn. can look at the distant faint
blue hills which seem to be grandly rev.
erent too, can see the ripened grain, the
heavily laden tree and vine, which have so
evidently nothing more to do or to give
without hearing that sweet sad song,
which has special meaning for every
one artists paint it, poets sing of it, we
look at their work, listen to their songs,
and wonder at their marvellous beauty,
and vet we feel that the lesson has not
been told, the music has never been
written. The most common refrain is
that life, like the freshness of Spring TO-
liage is brief. Improve then each mo-
ment of the time allotted you, for soon
you die, and like the crisp, frost touched
leaves, mingle with dust. But ask the
story they tell at sixteen when the eyes
dear above all others on earth to you,
are looking into yours, and will it be the
same? yet again ask it later in life,
after care aud disappointment, and
see what the heart will say. The breath
of the roses of the early happy time will
come floating back on the frost cooled
air, and there will be something melan.
choly in the sweet perfume. Think CT
the Joyous story they told long ago when
YOU trolicked beneath the naples, scuff-
ing the leaves which lay in withered
fragrance, heaps upon heaps, and feel
ing 10y that never comes to you now.
The leaves fly as merrily IS before, but
YOU think of one who used 10 keep pace
with you in the frolic, but whose feet
now rest in the grave, while yours still
stumble along the path of life. Yet af-
ter all the best and truest lesson of the
leaves is The simplest one, and one that
is not founded ON our personalities it is
a lesson for us all, one to help us to fas h
ion our lives to nature. From the first
bud offspring to the fall of the last leaf
through the chilly air of the late Au-
tumn, nature is showing us what our
lives should be, pure and glad, unfolding
in the free untainted air Of truth and
earnesness filling joyously by the exer-
ton of all our energie', as we only can
the places we are meant to fill. To such
a life, death is not terrible, it is only the
necessary turning from finished statue
to new and larger block of marble out
of which shall grow, by reason of our en-
larged conceptions, more beautiful and
natural result. 1t is sad only as all leave
takings are sad. for Autumn takes leave
of the loveliness of the year with smile
of happiness on her lips, knowing sure
~ that it shall reappear with the Spring,
and the strain of regret in the dying
song of nature only makes it more beau
tful, even as, at the happiest journey we
would not miss the sorrow in our hearts
at the leaving of dear ones behind.