The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-11-23

turn days? It goes swishing by go fast that they aren't long enough for us to finish our intown tasks, and get out into the country for few hours before the Chinese lantern-y moon swims up to fin ish out the poem, built up of the "A hours But once get out to Green Lodge, the first thing you know the early morning puts up a pink face with long golden fingers rubbing her sleepy eyes; little later when she starts of for the days journey she pins over her face piece of soft gray chiffon, Indian summer co,ored; later, at noon, she piles top of it a regular automobile series of mist veils- smoke blue and gold and pink shotted, and this particular hour has an enchant- ment all it's own.
 Life so far, too short at best for the perfect days of autumn to be wasted in prosaic work indoors.
 Shut up shop occasionally and take a little spin out to Green Lodge" where the radiant autumn leaves in crimson and gold tints greet you in all their glory; where disappearing paths wander into a deeper greenness; sit there under the trees and dust your soul and offer up your need of worship in the first temples of God the woods and the valleys.
 There are winding paths up the noun tain that are as good piece of country woodland as the most exacting might de- sire.
 There are high rocked hills that amply repay a climb to the summit, and ferns hidden away on the edge of messy little broolSlets, that are remote from city greens as if they grew In some Rhododen- dron mountain fastness
 All along the way out to Green Lodge the ride is beautiful; vivid red geraniums and all sorts of yellow flowers that bor- der the little country yards, run down in friendly fashion right to the car track to meet you; wonder are moro pretentious and lovely estates to look up to--on the mountain sidel
 The entire country is shining with au- tumn color run riot, in an effective set ting of big aristocratic trees and oh! such new washed air you'd ever seen-and then, like an emerald, q gem of purest ray serene, Green Lodge nestless and beckons to you to come and be fresheued up and scamper up the high, high hills and peep at the dimpIy little valleys here and there. A wabbly little path that car ries you finally to the top of the high peek beyond Green Lodge above the winding rock-bottomed creek and the far off sky line. is the final note of color to q day of vivid yelled effects in light and shade.
 If you haven't done so get out of town for few hours; have cup of tea with Miss Lainhart at Green Lodge" and eat some of her delicious sandwiches that she makes with her delicate, clever hands, and see if what I've said isn't all true and much more.
 If the country air and all the autumn beauties were on sale at some bargain counter in hotty, stuffy department store downtown every woman you know would be crowding about, laying in a supply of it; but since it is to be had for the aslling-a ride into the woods--a stroll through green valleys and autumn tinted paths, since it is free just for the going after it. we still busy ourselves indoors, worrying over stupid clothes and silly hats-or maybe alarming pair of perfectly inconsequential curtains to be put up the day the furnace is lighted.