AMAZED, enraptured, I gazed about me. This, surely, was the very forest of the Sleeping Beauty in the Woods. Suddenly, at a turn of the road, her castle loomed up among the trees, huge and mysterious. I had been pushing my bicycle, despite its various gears, up a long heavy slope. Once again in the saddle, I had penetrated into a wild valley, a mere gorge at first, then broadening into field and forest, with a pool in the lower distance. The brilliant bouquet that autumn can make if it pleases, of water and trees and bushes massed upon a mountain side, was before me--autumn, the flower time of the woods, when the heaviest burdens have fallen and the spring of trunk and branch and airy folia…
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