SEPTEMBER 



Late in the afternoon we passed a man on the 

 shore fishing with a long birch pole, its silvery 

 bark left on, and a dog at his side ; . . . and when 

 we had rowed a mile as straight as an arrow, with 

 our faces turned towards him, and the bubbles in 

 our wake still visible on the tranquil surface, there 

 stood the fisher still with his dog, like statues un- 

 der the other side of the heavens, the only objects 

 to relieve the eye in the extended meadow; and 

 there would he stand abiding his luck, till he took 

 his way home through the fields at evening with 

 his fish. 



THOREAU: A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 

 Rivers. 



2 



A marsh hawk in brown plumage comes skim- 

 ming over the grass. This way and that he 

 swerves in ever graceful lines. For one to whom 

 ease and grace come by nature, even the chase of 

 meadow mice is an act of beauty, while another 

 goes awkwardly though in pursuit of a goddess. 



Several times I have noticed a kingfisher hover- 

 ing above the grass (so it looks, but no doubt he is 

 over an arm of the creek), striking the air with 

 quick strokes, and keeping his head pointed down- 

 ward, after the manner of a tern. . . . Now I re- 

 mark him sitting motionless upon the top of a post 

 in the midst of the marsh. 



TORREY: A Florida Sketch-Book. 



