Wayfarers All

           THEWaterRatwasrestless,andhedidnotexactlyknowwhy.Toallappearancethesummer’spompwasstillatfullestheight,andalthoughinthetilledacresgreenhadgivenwaytogold,thoughrowanswerereddening,andthewoodsweredashedhereandtherewithatawnyfierceness,yetlightandwarmthandcolourwerestillpresentinundiminishedmeasure,cleanofanychillypremonitionsofthepassingyear.Buttheconstantchorusoftheorchardsandhedgeshadshrunktoacasualevensongfromafewyetunweariedperformers;therobinwasbeginningtoasserthimselfoncemore;andtherewasafeelingintheairofchangeanddeparture.Thecuckoo,ofcourse,hadlongbeensilent;butmanyanotherfeatheredfriend,formonthsapartofthefamiliarlandscapeanditssmallsociety,wasmissingtoo,anditseemedthattheranksthinnedsteadilydaybyday.Rat,everobservantofallwingedmovement,sawthatitwastakingdailyasouthingtendency;andevenashelayinbedatnighthethoughthecouldmakeout,passinginthedarknessoverhead,thebeatandquiverofimpatientpinions,obedienttotheperemptorycall.

           Nature’sGrandHotelhasitsSeason,liketheothers.