NOVEMBER 



17 



The sonorous, quavering sounds of the geese are 

 the voice of the cloudy air, a sound that comes from 

 directly between us and the sky, an aerial sound, 

 and yet so distinct, heavy, and sonorous ; a clank- 

 ing chain drawn through the heavy air. I saw 

 through my window some children looking up, 

 and pointing their tiny bows into the heavens, and 

 I knew at once that the geese were in the air. It 

 is always an exciting event. The children, instinc- 

 tively aware of its importance, rushed into the 

 house to tell their parents. Those travelers are 

 revealed to you by the upward-turned gaze of men. 



THOEEAU: Autumn. 



18 



ASA GRAY, 1810. 



This swamp [the spruce swamp in Conant's 

 Grove] contains beautiful specimens of the side- 

 saddle flower, Sarracenia purpurea, better called 

 pitcher-plant. The leaves ray out around the dry 

 scape and flower, which still remain, resting on 

 rich uneven beds of a coarse reddish moss, through 

 which the small-flowered andromeda puts up, pre- 

 senting altogether a most rich and luxuriant ap- 

 pearance to the eye. Thoxigh the moss is compar- 

 atively dry, I cannot walk without upsetting the 

 numerous pitchers, which are now full of water, 



and so wetting my feet. 



THOREAU: Autumn. 



