Around them and among them a belt of maples stood up like blazing torches sharp against the sky--yellow, scarlet, russet, maroon, and crimson veined with blood, all netted and laced together, and floating down upon the wind like shattered jewels.

Beyond, the purple mountains, and the creamy haze, and the silent sky.
It was a sight to make younger and older than these four girls stand still with deepening eyes.

For about a half minute nobody spoke, and I venture to say the four different kinds of thoughts they had just then would make a pretty bit of a poem.
Whatever they were, a fearfully unromantic and utterly indescribable howl from Winnie put an unceremonious end to them.
"O-oh! ugh! ah! Gypsy! Joy! I've got catched onto my buttons.

My head's tippin' over the wrong way.

Boo-hoo-hoo! Gypsy!" The girls turned, and stood transfixed, and screamed till they lost their breath, and laughed till they cried.
Winnie, not being of a sentimental turn of mind, had regarded unmoved the flaming glories of the maple-leaves, and being influenced by the more earthly attractions of the chestnuts, had conceived the idea of seizing advantage of the girls' unpractical rapture to be the first on the field, and take entire and lawful possession thereof.