SEPTEMBER 



MAURICE THOMPSON, 1844. 



The woodland paths are never seen to such 

 advantage as in a moonlight night, so embowered, 

 still opening before you almost against expecta- 

 tion as you walk. You are so completely in the 

 woods, and yet your feet meet no obstacles. It 

 is as if it were not a path, but an open, winding 

 passage through the bushes, which your feet find. 

 Now I go by the spring, and when I have risen to 

 the same level as before, find myself in the warmer 

 stratum again. These warmer veins, in a cool 

 evening like this, do not fail to be agreeable. 



THOREAU: Summer. 



IO 



THOMAS NUTTALL, died, 1859. 



How autumnal is the scent of wild grapes, now 

 by the roadside ! The cross-leaved polygala emits 

 its fragrance as at will ; you must not hold it too 

 near, but on all sides and at all distances. The 

 pendulous, drooping barberries are pretty well 



reddened. 



THOREAU: Days and Nights in Concord. 



The gentian (Andrewsii) now generally in prime, 

 on low, moist, shady banks. Its transcendent blue 

 shows best in the shade and suggests coolness; 

 contrasts there with the fresh green; a splendid 

 blue, light in the shade, turning to purple with 



age. 



THOREAU: Autumn. 



