TJIE AUTUMNAL CHOIB. 51 



plants are either dead or their foliage is of a 

 sickly tinge. But one, the ironweed, still 

 flourishes in regal splendor king of the blue- 

 grass pastures opening now its first purple 

 cymes that they may worship for the remainder 

 of the month that sun whose beams, unhindered 

 by haze or cloud, have caused all else to droop 

 and wither. 



The autumnal choir has begun its work early 

 this year. One already hears at night, both in 

 city and country, the long drawn trill weird 

 and monotonous of the tree cricket. The first 

 call of the true katydid a solitary, weak cry 

 was heard on July 25th, but it has since in- 

 creased in vigor and number until now it o'er- 

 sounds all other notes of the insect chorus. 



For years that chorus, beginning about August 

 first and continuing until after heavy frost, has 

 had an enchantment for my ear. I can not re- 

 frain from listening unto it. By day it con- 

 tinues in a subdued strain, but in the otherwise 

 silent watches of the night it rises to its full 

 cadence and seems to fill all space. It is to the 

 months of August and September what the frog 



