The Pioche record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1908-1925, 1920-11-19
AN AUTUMN DAY
By z c. D. Marriage

To every man his faEorite seasol-
IN nine cases out CT ten your town
nan gives summer pride Of place
But / would venture 70 think the tue
ountryloyer delights most in autumn
more especially so. IL he should b
one Of those fortunate ones whose
home lies near the hills. the little En-
gIish hills which, with their wood
slopes and smooth. rounded sum
niis. afford. az this season Of ths
yesr. ideal rambling ground
+ For now the hills are themselyss
again-dis.ant. clear and quiet after
he inyasions of holiday -makers
At times, soft curtain Of raineloud
elings about the highes: points. CIV
ing them an air OF mystery. The
light haze OF summer has gone-the
etmosphere is clearer. outlines
more vivid. Climbing slowly up
the rough track. the wide flung
landscape opens out farther and far
Their is you rise and distant objects
which in summer are screened b.
masses of foliage are now clearly
seen. The fields. fanked by dark,
bare hedges take on a sharper out
line; and farms with their cluster
ing outbuildings. and little lonelyt
cottages. seem to have sprung up on
every side. Summer cannot present
so varied scene. The old manor
whose twisted Tudor chimneys
scarce showed a month ago above
: The ancient oaks can now be viewed
in all It's beauty of time mellowei
, brick, quaint gables and carved null
lions. Not only the eye but the ear
w. 10 Shoi iieu. mating Tor a
moment on the steep hillside, the
all-peryading stiffness is broken by
a low and pleasing sound. Soma
, farmer has begun to thresh his corn
Through the clear still air floats the
murmer of the ''thresher,' bringing
I with it flood of memories-memories
of spring sowing anxious care and
watchfulness throughout the long
| ummer days, harvest time. The
| sound of the threshing machine is
sweet indeed 1t comes in waves
| md gusts. now rising almost into a
roar. fading now into a faint hum.
| growing once again into a low boom
ing.--steady, never ending. And OF
Zen. when the booming dies away al
most to breath, the putting of the
engine can be heard, regular and tire
less--only to cease a, nightfall.
1t is TO this accompaniment thai
the ploughman and his team walk al
day long, going backwards and for
wards breaking up the stubble into
trips of fresh brown earth. At the
far end of the furrow the ploughmar
md his team rise to the skyline--s
moment they stand there clearly out
urned, and the team moves slowl,
into the dip of the land, out-of-sight
1t is very still up here as the shadow
lengthen and the day grows old
Hark---a shepherds dog banks in tn
distance. Then clear and sweet. il
the quiet autumn air, comes tn
sound of the huntsman's horn
"Come away Come away" The
are blowing hounds out of cover be
low the bend of the hill. Time to e
home-the tick tack of horses fee
sounds sharply on the road, fianke,
= by gaun. telegraph poles--rude hint
Of buster scenes. But the thin wire
they carry tell none of their affair
to the soltitudes and the song the
sing when the wind blows acros
them, is not unpleasing In the val
ley, white trail OF smoke mark
the passing of train. 1t is SO ia
away that no sound reaches YOU
With evening comes an intens
peace. The hills seem to recedt
wrapping themselves in robe Q
utter silence. Time to go home
one by one. --twinkling lights appea
In cottage windows Twilight blot
out all form. Wierd wraiths @
mist twine themselves about tn
field and hedgerow. AS you haste
down the rough track, :he hills bs
hind you grow strange and wonder
full, like sleeping kings And s
the day fades into 1.-THE iniinit
azure of the past"
ONCE supplies OF all kinds at tn
Racord offico TN pioehe Mail ordov