Year: 1879

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The sun has not yet crossed the line
but autumn has come. Ii is indicated I,
part by the dying out of the trade wind,
or rather their intermittent Character
The heated term intervenes. That j,
necessary to perfect the autumnal r;ne
ness The grapes are tinted rapidly on
the hillside, taking on royal colors oi
crimson and gold. The apples take the
richest color on the side most exposed tt
the sun, and the pumpkins lie like great
yellow globes afield, the solar heat hay.
ing melted, as it were, the vines away. OIL
reduced them to a mere withered Iiga.
ment, though while the last of the sap il
distilled. The corn is filling out rapidly
under the fervent heat There is no ton
ping the stalks to hasten the ripenine
process, because there are no frosts te
cut it off prematurely. The hayricks gt
laden to the markets, and the little ba,
schooners slip down with the tide. theil
booms hoisted up to clear the bales. sc
that the masts look like little boy s legs
which have outgrown his pants. It i
not, however, the growing season. except
for boys and girls. 1t is the ripenino
season. The time when nature puts the
finishing stroke to the work of the wear
Even the earth seems to be perfumed
with the scent of orchards and vineyards.
The markets, too, give token of Autumn.
Little steamers come in loaded with boxes
OF fruit. They have slipped out of the
sloughs and tide-water creeks adjacent ia
the farms in the night, perhaps, because
time and tide wait for none-not even the
market man and the fruit yenders. nor
for the little steamer which spits along
spitefully, as if this being called up in
the night was not an agreeable circum-
stance. A cargo of fruit, or half dozen.
makes little impression upon the market.
Just now there are something like three
hundred Thousand fruit-eaters in this
city. The children of the poor go along
the wharyes and pick up the half-decayed
fruit, eating the sound part, and are glad
that autumn has even SO much in store
for them. Just now the markets are
plethoric with the early autumn fruits.
There are melons by the schooner load
melons suggestive of cramps and COLES.
and melons with golden tints, suggestive
of deep peace, which flows from sort
OF satisfying fullness. There are peaches
pale as consumptives, and others with a
sort of riotous carnation, as if color had
some relation to havor--which is not a fact.
by the way. You note that the average con-
sumer goes for high color. Hewill buy a
box of red apples sooner than box of
pale ones, and the pears that have the
deepest color will be transferred to him
as matter of choice. Observe. too.
that the rather insipid and tough Tokay
has the preference over the Museat of
Alexandria or even the Black Hamburg.
1t is the delicate blush that wins favor.
There is sentiment even in the selection
OF fruit. All the attractive colors take
the precedence. Even the neutral and
$3.50 tomato owes half its popularity to
its attractive colors. There is not only a
tropical affiuence of color, but tropical
taste in the matter of selection. That
colored s'auntie" with the bright bandana
about her head, who caters for a whole
family, will not buy single pound of
fruit which is not high colored. It is
the of season for strawberries, but the
great Chile berries are tempting. with
alternating sides of gold and crimson.
There goes the whole box into her capa-
cious market basket. There is no color
blindness there. But observe that she
discarded blackberries, much better
fruit, because the color didn't suit.


There will be a carnival of fruit from
now until Christmas. Autumn comes in
without noise, but with certain serenity
and peace which pervades all things.
The powdered trees by the roadside, the
long trail of dust behind the team on the
country road, the swelling of springs
and small streams, the solitary 'shonk
of wild geese coming down from
the north country, and the ducks,
which are settling among the marshes
and ponds, are so many hints oi
autumn. There will be two months
yet of ripening, rainless weather. There
are yet the finishing touches to be put
upon the orchard The winter Nelis
and the Vicar of Wakefield are not vel
ripe, nor are the Russets and Greenings
and Pippings ready to go into winter
quarters. The little cider mill set ur
under the tree is grinding the windfalls
What pretty affair it is in contrast witt
that great wooden mill of former times
with its enormous timber wheel running
in wooden trough when the boys wen


"round and round" at noon time. anG
took little toll of neH cider through {
straw.


But those we're days when no farmeI
was comfortable unless he had rolled q
least a dozen barrels of cider into hi
capacious cellar. That was storehous,
of good things. 1t was open during al
the autumn days, and besides the homes
dozen of cider barrels, with sometimes ,
hogshead to give emphasis, as sort o
tiger" there was the bin of winter ap
pies, a broadside set apart for ether pro
duce of the farm, and the great oakel
chest for the mince pies, while in tn,
garret the ounces spread out ON foo
diffused an autumn fragrance through al
the chambers. There was the biting
frost, too, which opened the chestnu


burrs and sent down a great wealth o


hickory nuts, which in the crisp and stil


mornings seemed to fall as if from al


open heaven. Autumn here has less o
flavor and accent. But there is the sans


suggestion of repose, more roundnes


and richness of supply, the same seren


brooding, but without the suggestion o
| storm and tempest.