i. THE FALL OF THE YEAR 113 



chutes. From a crowded area the little spinners 

 were borne in passive migration on the wings of 

 the wind, and the tangle of gossamer on the grass 

 tells of the accomplished journeys. In the forenoon 

 the threads glisten with dew or thawed hoar-frost, 

 making one of the finest sights in the world 

 " every thread of cobweb dew-bediamonded," as 

 R. L. Stevenson put it and all the finer in our 

 eyes because we know that the gossamer strewn in 

 disarray spells a victory of life over matter. 

 Showers of gossamer are not by any means re- 

 stricted to autumn, but they are in many localities 

 very characteristic of that season, and we may link 

 them in thought to the more active migrations of 

 birds migrations which have taken from us all our 

 summer visitors and are bringing us a small con- 

 tingent of winter visitors, such as fieldfares and 

 redwings, snow buntings and great northern divers. 

 There are also incoming flocks of various sorts 

 (gold-crests and hoodie-crows make a good 

 contrast) which take Great Britain en route as they 

 wend their way from Scandinavia to the genial 

 South. 



Another very characteristic sight in autumn is 

 the rush of the salmon up the rapids and over the 

 falls on their way to the spawning-grounds where 

 the females deposit their eggs in the gravel usually 

 in November and December in Scotland. Their 

 nutritive period in the sea has given them great 

 stores of energy for their fasting but reproductive 

 period in the rivers; they are influenced, no doubt, 



