"There Is Something Indescribably Beautiful In The Appearance Of Canadian Woods At This Season Of The Year, Especially When The Light Of The Rising Or Setting Sun Falls Upon Them.

Almost every imaginable shade of green, brown, red and yellow, may be found in the foliage of our forest

Trees, shrubs, and creeping vines, as the autumn advances and it may truly be said that every backwood's home in Canada is surrounded by more gorgeous colourings and richer beauties than the finest mansions of the nobility of England.

"Have our readers ever remarked the peculiarly beautiful appearance of the pines at this season of the year? When other trees manifest symptoms of withering, they appear to put forth a richer and fresher foliage. The interior of the tree, when shaded from the sun, is a deep invisible-green, approaching to black, whilst the outer boughs, basking in the sunlight, show the richest dark-green that can be imagined. A few pine and spruce trees scattered among the more brightly-colored oaks, maple, elms and beeches, which are the chief denizens of our forests, give the whole an exceedingly rich appearance. Among the latter, every here and there, strange sports of nature attract attention. A tree that is still green will have a single branch, covered with red and orange leaves, like a gigantic bouquet of flowers. Another will have one side of a rich maroon, whilst the other side remains green. A third will present a flounce or ruffle of bright buff, or orange leaves round the middle, whilst the branches above and below continue green. Then again some trees which have turned to a rich brown, will be seen intertwined and festooned by the wild vine or red root, still beautifully green; or a tree that is still green will he mantled over by the Canadian ivy, whose leaves have turned to a deep reddish-brown. In fact, every hue that painters love, or almost could imagine, is found standing out boldly or hid away in some recess, in one part or another of a forest scene at this season, and all so delicately mingled and blended that human art must despair of making even a tolerable imitation. And these are beauties which not even the sun can portray; the photographer's art has not yet enabled him to seize and fix them on the mirror which he holds up to nature. He can give the limbs and outward flourishes, but not the soul of such a scene. His representation bears the same relation to the reality that a beautiful corpse does to the flashing eye and glowing cheek of living beauty." - (From "Maple Leaves," 1865.)

LONGWOOD.

THE COUNTRY SEAT OF THE HON. WM. SMITH (1760-1847.)

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping, Haply of lovers none ever will know, Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping Years ago.

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea, A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The - square slope of the blossomless bed Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses Now lie dead.

Enter page number Go  Previous Next
Page 278 of 451
Words from 145617 to 146135 of 236821