SEPTEMBER 



21 



Beautiful yet for me this autumn day 

 Melts on its sunset hills ; and, far away, 

 For me the ocean lifts its solemn psalm, 

 To me the pine-woods whisper ; and for me 

 Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, 

 By greenest banks, with asters purple-starred, 

 And gentian bloom and gqldenrod made gay, 

 Flows down in silent gladness to the sea, 

 Like a pure spirit to its great reward ! 



WHITTIEE: The Prisoners of Naples. 



22 



These almost invisible nets, as it were, are 

 spread for us, and whole coveys of desmodium and 

 bidens seeds steal transportation out of us. I have 

 found myself often covered, as it were, with an im- 

 bricated coat of the brown desmodium seeds or a 

 bristling chevaux-de-frise of beggar ticks, and had 

 to spend a quarter of an hour or more picking 

 them off in some convenient spot ; and so they get 

 just what they wanted, deposited in another place. 

 How surely the desmodium growing on some rough 

 cliff-side, or the bidens on the edge of a pool, pro- 

 phesy the coming of the traveler, brute or human, 

 that will transport their seeds on his coat 1 



TIIOKKAT: Autumn. 



