Now, too, the first of October, or later, the Elms are at the height of
their autumnal beauty, great brownish-yellow masses, warm from their
September oven, hanging over the highway Their leaves are perfectly
ripe. I wonder if there is any answering ripeness in the lives of the
men who live beneath them. As I look down our street, which is lined
with them, they remind me both by their form and color of yellowing
sheaves of grain, as if the harvest had indeed come to the village
itself, and we might expect to find some maturity and _flavor_ in the
thoughts of the villagers at last. Under those bright rustling yellow
piles just ready to fall on the heads of the walkers, how can any
crudity or greenness of thought or act prevail? When I stand where half
a dozen large Elms droop over a house, it is as if I stood within a
ripe pumpkin-rind, and I feel as mellow as if I were the pulp, though I
may be somewhat stringy and seedy withal. What is the late greenness of
the English Elm, like a cucumber out of season, which does not know
when to have done, compared with the early and golden maturity of the
American tree? The street is the scene of a great harvest-home. It
would be worth the while to set out these trees, if only for their
autumnal value. Think of these great yellow canopies or parasols held
over our heads and houses by the mile together, making the village all
one and compact,—an _ulmarium_, which is at the same time a nursery of
men! And then how gently and unobserved they drop their burden and let
in the sun when it is wanted, their leaves not heard when they fall on
our roofs and in our streets; and thus the village parasol is shut up
and put away! I see the market-man driving into the village, and
disappearing under its canopy of Elm-tops, with _his_ crop, as into a
great granary or barn-yard. I am tempted to go thither as to a husking
of thoughts, now dry and ripe, and ready to be separated from their
integuments; but, alas! I foresee that it will be chiefly husks and
little thought, blasted pig-corn, fit only for cob-meal,—for, as you
sow, so shall you reap.