ue sky ventured to appear, till at last it was really
warm and sunny,--indeed, rather too warm in the sheltered hollows,
though it is delightful to be too warm now, after so much stormy
chillness. O the beauty of grassy slopes, and the hollow ways of paths
winding between hills, and the intervals between the road and wood-lots,
where summer lingers and sits down, strewing dandelions of gold, and
blue asters, as her parting gifts and memorials! I went to a grape-vine,
which I have already visited several times, and found some clusters of
grapes still remaining, and now perfectly ripe. Coming within view of
the river, I saw several wild ducks under the shadow of the opposite
shore, which was high, and covered with a grove of pines. I should not
have discovered the ducks had they not risen and skimmed the surface of
the glassy stream, breaking its dark water with a bright streak, and,
sweeping round, gradually rose high enough to fly away. I likewise
started a partridge just within the verge of the woods, and in another
place a large squirrel ran across the wood-path from one shelter of
trees to the other. Small birds, in flocks, were flitting about the
fields, seeking and finding I know not what sort of food. There were
little fish, also, darting in shoals through the pools and depths of the
brooks, which are now replenished to their brims, and rush towards the
river with a swift, amber-colored current.

Cow Island is not an island,--at least, at this season,--though, I
believe, in the time of freshets, the marshy Charles floods the meadows
all round about it, and extends across its communication with the
mainland. The path to it is a very secluded one, threading a wood of
pines, and just wide enough to admit the loads of meadow hay which are
drawn from the splashy shore of the river. The island has a growth of
stately pines, with tall and ponderous stems, standing at distance
enough to admit the eye to travel far among them; and, as there is no
underbrush, the effect is somewhat like looking among the pillars of a
church.

I returned home by the high-road. On my right, separated from the road
by a level field, perhaps fifty yards across, was a range of young
forest-trees, dressed in their garb of autumnal glory. The sun shone
directly upon them; and sunlight is like the breath of life to the pomp
of autumn. In its absence, one doubts whether there be any truth in what
poets have told about the splendor of an American au