186 THE CHRISTIAN NATURALIST. 



bough ; the humble-bee, torpid on the disc of the 

 purple thistle, just lifts a limb to pray forbearance of 

 injury, to ask for peace, and bid us 



' Leave, leave him to repose.' 



The cinquefoil, or the vetch, with one lingering 

 flower, yet appears, and we note it from its loveliness. 

 Spreading on the light foliage of the fern, dry and 

 mature, the spider has fixed her toils, and motionless in 

 the midst, watches her expected prey, every thread and 

 mesh beaded with dew, trembling with the zephyrs 

 breath ; then falls the sere and yellow leaf, parting 

 from its spray without a breeze tinkling in the boughs, 

 and rustling scarce audibly along, rests at our feet, and 

 tells us that we part too. All these are distinctive 

 symbols of the season, marked in the silence and so- 

 briety of the hour ; and form, perhaps, a deeper im- 

 pression on the mind, than any afforded by the verdant 

 promises, the vivacities of spring, or the gay profuse 

 luxuriance of summer.'* 



This beautiful picture, which so strikingly exhibits 

 some of the most striking features of this season, is 

 intended rather to pourtray it as it appears in its 



* Journal of a Naturalist, p. 113. 



