1 68 Walks in New England 



These September Days 



u Oh tenderly the haughty day 

 Fills his blue urn with fire.&quot; 



EMERSON S daring and splendid trope fits 

 these fine September days with so exqui 

 site an expression that it is almost sacrilege 

 to give it a lesser voice. But even as the crickets 

 and grasshoppers play their light instruments in 

 the autumn orchestra, and the cicada scrapes his 

 harsh strings, and the katydid carries on his in 

 conclusive accusations in the elms at evening, and 

 these make a rich undertone of harmony which 

 with all its sharp accents suits well with the sweeter 

 messages of the breezes, the farewell notes of the 

 birds and the subtle throbbing diapason of Na 

 ture in these parting days so the fragmentary 

 thought and perception of the beauty of earth and 

 its exhaustless meanings contribute somewhat in 

 the same way to the comprehensive image of the 

 seer. 



What phase of Nature is more wonderful and 



