Autumn, be thou successor to my seat: Hold, take my crown:look, how he grasps for it!

" CHAPTER XII AUTUMN IN THE VALLEY Autumn in the valley was autumn, melancholy and sinister, as you find her only in such low-lying immemorial drifting places of leaves, and oozy sinks of dank water.

It has been well observed that autumn in one way is a more joyous time than spring.

Autumn in Virginia, especially if one is not too near the mountains, is a season in which greenness sails very close to Christmas, although generally veering away in time to prevent its verdant hues from tingeing that happy day with the gloomy influence of the prophetic proverb about churchyards.

The autumn was a long delight in which the constant sea, the constant sky, knew almost as little variance as the unchanging Alps.

But in the valley Autumn was a fearsome hag, a little crazy, two-double, gathering sticks in a scarlet cloak.

The same autumn (1745) was the epoch of a great event; the marching of Charles Edward into England.