The oaks were still as fresh as ever, but many other trees had changed their bright green for the deeper and more golden tints of autumn. In some places brown and crisp leaves already formed a thick carpet, and the beeches were fast flinging their ripe nuts to the ground. For all that, it was a little hard to realise that Autumn had already begun, for many flowers yet lingered, and the white and yellow roses still enlivened the gray face of the old mansion. However, as the Blackbird had learnt to know, there were fruits and joys for every season, and if the strawberries and cherries had gone, were there not rosy-cheeked apples and delicious pears, which had been wanting in the summer? There was one apple-tree in the orchard which he specially remembered; he had noticed it in the spring with its wealth of pink-white blossoms. The blossoms had quickly fallen, and he recollected hopping and frisking about among the soft, rosy petals as they strewed the grass. He had regretted the fall of these pretty leaflets, and, of course, had gone to the old Rook for consolation. "Wait a while," had been the Rook's sage remark; "they have only fallen off to give place to something better." The old sage was right, they had been pushed off, in order that the apples of autumn might come to perfection. This tree was now covered with rosy-cheeked, tempting fruit, pippins, that were so round and plump, that their skins appeared to have a great difficulty in containing them, and the Blackbird determined that no time should be lost in conducting his young family there. Accordingly, one fine evening found him on the wing, at the head of his summer nestlings, who were fast developing into grown-up birds. He alighted on a bough, and hopped down from thence to the grass, where the apples lay very temptingly around. Just as he was about to commence supper, he became aware of a very fierce-looking man who was standing with outstretched and threatening arms, only a few yards from the tree. The Blackbird immediately rose in the air and flew away with a shrill cry, and all his young ones followed him. They did not venture to stop till they reached a neighbouring field. The appearance of the man at this time was all the more singular, for the Blackbird never before remembered to have seen the gardener in the orchard, so late in the evening. However, the next morning he determined to be there betimes, and to make his breakfast off the apples, although he had lost his supper. As he flew along, followed by his young ones, he said, "Now remember, my children, always to be very careful, and never go near the orchard if the gardener happens to be about, for the hard-hearted man would think nothing of shooting every one of us, and all for the sake of his miserable apples." This admonition did not make the young Blackbirds feel over comfortable, and as they hopped to the grass their poor little legs trembled with alarm.