50 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
is comparable to them ; and, with all the talent 
lately lavished on wild-flower painting, I have 
never seen the peculiar sheen of these petals in 
the least degree delineated. It seems some 
new and separate tint, equally distinct from 
scarlet and from crimson, a splendor for which 
there is as yet no name, but only the reality. 
It is the signal of autumn, when September 
exhibits the first Barrel Gentian by the road- 
side; and there is a pretty insect in the mea- 
dows — the Mourning-cloak Moth, it might be 
called — which gives coincident warning. The 
innumerable Asters mark this period with their 
varied and widespread beauty; the meadows 
are full of rose-colored Polygala, of the white 
spiral spikes of the Ladies’ Tresses, and of the 
fringed loveliness of the Gentian. This flower, 
always unique and beautiful, opening its deli- 
cate eyelashes every morning to the sunlight, 
closing them again each night, has also a 
thoughtful charm about it as the last of the 
year’s especial darlings. It lingers long, each 
remaining blossom growing larger and more 
deep in color, as with many other flowers ; and 
after it there is nothing for which to look for- 
ward, save the fantastic Witch-hazel. 
On the water, meanwhile, the last White 
Lilies are sinking beneath the surface, and the 
last gay Pickerel-weed is gone, though the 
