AUTUMN TIDES 105 



fence, and leading oif toward the sky, may be seen 

 the cables of the flying spider, — a fairy bridge from 

 the visible to the invisible. Occasionally seen 

 against a deep mass of shadow, and perhaps enlarged 

 by clinging particles of dust, they sliow quite plainly 

 and sag down like, a stretched rope, or sway and 

 undulate like a hawser in the tide. 



They recall a verse of our rugged poet, Walt 

 Whitman : — 



"A noiseless patient spider, 

 I mark'd where, in a little promontory, it stood isolated: 

 Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, 

 It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself ; 

 Ever unreeling them — ever tirelessly spreading them. 



" And you, O my soul, where you stand, 

 Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, 

 Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, — 

 Seeking the spheres to connect them; 

 Till the bridge j'ou will need be formed — till the ductile anchor 



hold; 

 Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, my 



soul." 



To return a little, September may be described 

 as the month of tall weeds. W^here they have been 

 suffered to stand, along fences, by roadsides, and 

 in forgotten corners, — redroot, pigweed, ragweed, 

 vervain, goldenrod, burdock, elecampane, thistles, 

 teasels, nettles, asters, etc. , — how they lift them- 

 selves up as if not afraid to be seen now! They 

 are all outlaws; every man's hand is against them; 

 yet how surely they hold their own! They love 

 the roadside, because here they are comparatively 

 safe; and ragged and dusty, like the common 



