“When they cast their leaves.”
It is one way of knowing that Autumn is come and Summer ended, when we see the leaves fluttering from the branches, or lying in their hundreds of thousands, helpless on the ground. Even the fresh green beauty of the Spring, or the wealth and fulness of the Summer, present no more varied and lovely sight than these scenes of Autumn.
The waterfall dell in Bold Venture Park never looked more beautiful than it did when the trees were half-stripped of their summer robes and the fallen leaves covered the green sward with spots of brown and yellow, red and gold. The gardeners alone do not relish the Autumn, for it always brings them so much work. They have to keep on sweeping up the paths, lest the leaves choke up the drains, and the heavy rains have no channel through which they can run away.
I wonder if any of you children know what work the leaves do all through their lives—or how clever and unselfish and useful they are. When you see the great wooden ship floating on the sea, you would hardly think that the leaves helped to make it.
Or when you breathe the pure air of the morning, do you ever remember that its purity is partly the work of the leaves?
Or do you know that the apples and pears and nuts, which you so much enjoy, were fed by the leaves before they were able to feed you?
Or more wonderful still, that the streams, which come tumbling down the sides of the hill for the cotton-mills, and the lodges gathered in the hollows for the drink and comfort of the town, and the great rivers like the Ribble and the Mersey, are all indebted to the leaves for a portion of their water?
Let me try to tell you how.
In the cells of leaves the sap which rises from the roots is changed by the sunbeams into the hard stuff which forms the trunk of the tree. That is the way the leaves help to build the big ships.
Then again, every leaf sucks out of the air what is poisonous for us to breathe, and gives back what is good, so making the air more pure.
Of course, you know that the leaves feed the fruit. If a caterpillar eats the leaves, there will be no fruit worth having.
But, perhaps, you do not know that the leaves draw water out of the ground, and give it out to the air in vapor, which goes up to the clouds and falls again in rain, and forms the rivers.
Countries that have no trees have little rain. Wise men recommend the planting of trees, for one reason, that they will help to bring the rain.
So then, what a mistake it is to think that all the leaves have to do is to dance and play in the sunshine and the breeze, to look pretty for a while, and then fall off! They prepare abundant supplies for men and beasts—fuel for warming our homes, roofs which cover us, ships and wagons which carry our goods. They help the hills to make the rain which waters our gardens and fields, and when they die, they fall upon the ground to make fresh soil, and to come up again in new forms of life and beauty.
Things are not what they seem. We love boys and girls to have a good time—to laugh and play, to sing and dance; and we would, if we could, keep hard work away from them altogether. But God has given everything its work to do. And very pleasant work is yours, if you only knew it. You are here to bring sunshine and beauty into older people’s lives. And you can help them do the serious work of the world, too, by smiling and being kind, by obedience and good temper, by your laughter and innocent play. And all the time you can be learning how to be of still more use when you grow up.
Believe me, it is very hard to find a place for useless people. But if you can work, and will work, there’s room for you somewhere, and, like the leaves on the trees, you will not only find your place and your duty, but you will add to the loveliness of the world, and we shall all miss you badly when you go.