ia in October, and not grow extravagant,
is one of those things which rank with the discovery of perpetual
motion--an impossibility.

Would you have strength and rude might? The oak is, yonder, battered
by a thousand storms, and covered with the rings of forgotten
centuries. Splendor? The mountain banners of the crimson dogwood, red
maple, yellow hickory and chestnut flout the sky--as though all the
nations of the world had met in one great federation underneath the
azure dome not built with hands, and clashed together there the
variegated banners which once led them to war--now beckoning in with
waving silken folds the thousand years of peace! Would you have
beauty, and a tender delicacy of outline and fine coloring? Here
is that too; for over all,--over the splendid emperors and humble
princes, and the red, and blue, and gold, of oak, and hickory, and
maple, droops that magical veil whereof we spoke--that delicate
witchery, which lies upon the gorgeous picture like a spell, melting
the headlands into distant figures, beckoning and smiling, making the
colors of the leaves more delicate and tender--turning the autumn
mountains into a fairy land of unimagined splendor and delight!

Extravagance is moderation looking upon such a picture.

Such a picture was unrolled before the four individuals who now took
their way toward the fine hill to the west of the Bower of Nature, and
they enjoyed its beauty, and felt fresher and purer for the sight.

"Isn't it splendid!" cried Fanny.

"Oh, yes!" Redbud said, gazing delightedly at the trees and the sky.

"Talk about the lowland," said Ralph, with patriotic scorn; "I tell
you, my heart's delight, that there is nothing, anywhere below, to
compare with this."

"Not at Richmond?--but permit me first to ask if your observation was
addressed to me, sir?" said Miss Fanny, stopping.

"Certainly it was, my own,"

"I am not your own."

"Aren't you?"

"No, and I never will be!"

"Wait till you are asked!" replied Ralph, laughing triumphantly at
this retort.

"Hum!" exclaimed Fanny.

"But you asked about Richmond, did you not, my beauty?"

"Ridiculous!" cried Fanny, laughing; "well, yes, I did."

"A pretty sort of a place," Ralph replied; "but not comparable to
Winchester."

"Indeed--I thought differently."

"That's not to the purpose--you are no judge of cities."

"Hum! I suppose you are."

"Of course!"

"A judge of everything?"

"Nearly--among other things, I