NOVEMBER 



The other day I could hardly find a well-known 

 spring, and even suspected that it had dried up, 

 for it was completely concealed by freshly fallen 

 leaves ; and when I swept them aside and revealed 

 it, it was like striking the earth, with Aaron's rod, 

 for a new spring. Wet grounds about the edges 

 of swamps look dry with them. At one swamp, 

 where I was surveying, thinking to step on a leafy 

 shore from a rail, I got into the water more than 

 a foot deep. 



THOKEAU: Autumnal Tints. 



Several crows are walking about a newly sowed 

 wheatfield we pass through, and we pause to note 

 their graceful movements and glossy coats. I have 

 seen no bird walk the ground with just the same 

 air the crow does. It is not exactly pride ; there 

 is no strut or swagger in it, though perhaps just a 

 little condescension ; it is the contented, complai- 

 sant, and self-possessed gait of a lord over his do- 

 mains. All these acres are mine, he says, and all 

 these crops ; men plow and sow for me, and I stay 

 here or go there, and find life sweet and good 



wherever I am. 



BURROUGHS: Pepacton. 



