mile was
on the face of Nature. Fleecy, fleeting clouds were chasing each other
across the blue dome of the heavens. The hazy atmosphere of the Indian
summer softened the landscape and lent it a mystical and unearthly
charm. The forests were resplendent with those brilliant colors which
appear like a last flush of life upon the dying face of summer, as she
sinks into her wintry grave. The autumn birds were singing; the autumn
flowers were blooming; yellow golden rod and scarlet sumach glowed in
the corners of the fences; locusts chirped in treetops; grasshoppers
stridulated in the meadows, one or two of them making more noise than a
whole drove of cattle lying peacefully chewing their cud beneath an
umbrageous elm and lifting up their great, tranquil, blinking eyes to
the morning sun. Here and there boys and girls could be seen in the
vineyards and orchards gathering grapes and apples. Farmers were cutting
their grain and stacking it in great brown shocks, digging potatoes, or
plowing the fertile soil. Now and then a traveler met or passed them,
clucking to his horses and hurrying to the city with his produce. Amid
these gracious influences, life gradually lost its stern reality and
took on the characteristics of a pleasant dream. The fever and unrest
abated, burdens weighed less heavily, sorrow became less poignant; the
finer joys of both the waking and sleeping hours of existence were
mysteriously blended.

Sharp and irritating as the encounter had been between the two lovers,
the momentary antipathy passed away as they moved along. They drew
nearer together; they lifted their eyes furtively; their glances met;
they smiled; they spoke; their sympathies flowed back into the old
channel; their hopes and affections mingled. They gave themselves up to
joy with the abandon of youth, falling into that mood in which
everything pleases and delights. Nature did not need to tell them her
secrets aloud, for they comprehended her whispers and grasped her
meaning from sly hints. They melted into her moods.

What joys were theirs! To be young; to be drawn together by an affinity
which produced a mysterious and ineffable happiness; to wander aimlessly
over the earth; to yield to every passing fancy; to dream; to hope; to
love. It was the culminating hour of their lives.

Passing through the little village since called Avondale, they turned
down what is now the Clinton Springs road, climbed a hill, descended its
other slope, and c