ABSTRACT
It was the autumn after the birth of their boy: it had been a glorious summer, with bright, hot, sunny weather; and now the year was fading away as seasonably into mellow days, with mornings of silver mists and clear frosty nights. The blooming look of the time of flowers was past and gone; but instead there were even richer tints abroad in the sun-coloured a leaves, the lichens, the golden-blossomed furze: if it was the time of fading, there was a glory in the decay.
