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A haze on the far horizon, The infinite tender sky, . The ripe, rich tints of the cornfields, And the wild geese soaring high. And all over upland and lowland, The charm of the goldenrod, Some of us call it AutumnBut.others call it ' ' ' God' -wm. caruth. ***

Many beautiful thoughts have been penned and typed and uttered about the fall of the year, but the above is my entry for the season's best. Ever drive along a highway after the first frost of the season, and feast your eyes on a Black Gum tree? If not, you've missed something very beautiful. The leaves range in color from the darkest oxblood to the lightest flaming red. And ire they pretty!

I've always had an idea that when Joyce Kilmer wrote his priceless and ageless poem that begins-"I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely 4s 3 (sss"-he had in his mind's eye tfre picture of a hillside of hardwoods in the autumn after the leaves had turned to their riot of fall colors; that season of beauty "when reapers sing among the garnered sheaves." It is at that season that trees are well described as "lovely."

**rk rF:f*

The word "lovely," however, would ill describe our majestic evergreen trees. I've never fully made up my mind which of two I think the grandest looking of our commercial trees. The two my choice wavers between are the California Redwood, and the Southern Rosemary Pine. The majesty of the ever-living Redwood defies description. But there is something about the Rosemary, which is the tallest, straightest, most symmetrical of the Yellow Pines of the South, that is tremendously appealing. The Redwood grows in mighty groves and forests. The Rosemary is more or less individual, appearing singly or in scattered numbers along some hillside in either Long Leaf or Short Leaf forests. A fine sample of either the Redwood or the Rosemary will give any nature lover something to mutter inarticulate poems about.

And no doubt it was an Autumn scene that James Whit- comb Riley was thinking of when he wrote: And the sun had on a crown Wrought of gilded thistledown, And a scarf of velvet vapor And a ravelled rainbow gown; And his tinsel.tangled hair, Tossed and lost upon the air, Was glossier and fossier Than any anywhere.

**)B

Best recent rrirar story: Two colored brothers were talking about the Battle of Britain. One of them said: "Boy, if'n dem British could fight jes half as good as dem R.A.F.'s, dis wah would be ovah befo now."

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Best descriptive remark on our domestic situation: Carl Crow says-"The National Labor Relations Board is as Russian as caviar."

:F**

Thought I might have a good crop of election stories to recite by this time, but so far the crop is short and poor. Haven't heard a really good political story through this campaign. Wonder why? Guess it's because people are too much wrought up about the possibilities of this election to feel like joking. The man who feels that a third term means the end of the America he loved, is too worried to laugh about it; and the fellow who thinks Roosevelt the only man who can keep us out of war, is pretty serious minded, too.

Not even any really -..U **a stories going the rounds. There has been a national rush for marriage licenses of late, and some wag has remarked that-"if his number doesn't come up, the honeymoon's over."

During the draft a"yr"ot L" **ru War, good stories few freely every day. There was the one about the colored brother who said he named his little boy "Weatherstrip," because he kept him out of the draft.

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And the country laughed over the other colored boy who was caught in the draft and ordered to report for duty. The officer asked him: "What's your name?" and the (Continued on Page 8)