AUTUMN TIDES 105 



fence, and leading off toward the sky, may be seen 

 tlie cables of the flying spider, — a fairy bridge from 

 the visible to the invisible. Occasionally seen 

 against a deep mass of shadow, and perhaps enlarged 

 by clinging particles of dust, they show quite plainly 

 and sag down like a stretched rope, or sway and 

 undulate like a hawser in the tide. 



They recall a verse of our rugged poet, Walt 

 Whitman : — 



" A noiseless patient spider, 

 I mark'd where, in a little promontory, it stood isolated: 

 Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, 

 It lannch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself ; 

 Ever unreeling them — ever tirelessly spreading them. 



" And you, my soul, where you stand. 

 Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space. 

 Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, — 

 Seeking the spheres to connect them ; 

 Till the bridge you will need be formed — till the ductile anchor 



hold; 

 Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O ray 



soul." 



To return a little, September may be described 

 as the month of tall weeds. Where they have been 

 suffered to stand, along fences, by roadsides, and 

 in forgotten corners, — red-root, pig- weed, rag- weed, 

 vervain, goldenrod, burdock, elecampane, thistles, 

 teasels, nettles, asters, etc. , — how they lift them- 

 selves up as if not afraid to be seen now ! They 

 are aU outlaws; every man's hand is against them; 

 yet how surely they hold their own! They love 

 the roadside, because here they are comparatively 

 safe; and ragged and dusty, like the common 



