'In the Weald, autumn approached, breaking up the green monotony of summer, touching the parks with the grey bloom of mist, the beech trees with russet, the oak trees with gold. Up on the heights, battalions of black pines witnessed the change, themselves unchangeable.'
'In the Weald, autumn approached, breaking up the green monotony of summer, touching the parks with the grey bloom of mist, the beech trees with russet, the oak trees with gold. Up on the heights, battalions of black pines witnessed the change, themselves unchangeable.'