has that bronze color of the moon eclipsed.  There is no ill which may not be dissipated, like the dark, if you let in a stronger light upon it.  Shadows, referred to the source of light, are pyramids whose bases are never greater than those of the substances which cast them, but light is a spherical congeries of pyramids, whose very apexes are the sun itself, and hence the system shines with uninterrupted light.  But if the light we use is but a paltry and narrow taper, most objects will cast a shadow wider than themselves.

The places where we had stopped or spent the night in our way up the river, had already acquired a slight historical interest for us; for many upward day’s voyaging were unravelled in this rapid downward passage.  When one landed to stretch his limbs by walking, he soon found himself falling behind his companion, and was obliged to take advantage of the curves, and ford the brooks and ravines in haste, to recover his ground.  Already the banks and the distant meadows wore a sober and deepened tinge, for the September air had shorn them of their summer’s pride.

     “And what’s a life?  The flourishing array
     Of the proud summer meadow, which to-day
     Wears her green plush, and is to-morrow hay.”

The air was really the “fine element” which the poets describe.  It had a finer and sharper grain, seen against the russet pastures and meadows, than before, as if cleansed of the summer’s impurities.

Having passed the New Hampshire line and reached the Horseshoe Interval in Tyngsborough, where there is a high and regular second bank, we climbed up this in haste to get a nearer sight of the autumnal flowers, asters, golden-rod, and yarrow, and blue-curls (Trichostema dichotoma), humble roadside blossoms, and, lingering still, the harebell and the Rhexia Virginica.  The last, growing in patches of lively pink flowers on the edge of the meadows, had almost too gay an appearance for the rest of the landscape, like a pink ribbon on the bonnet of a Puritan woman.  Asters and golden-rods were the livery which nature wore at present.  The latter alone expressed all the ripeness of the season, and shed their mellow lustre over the fields, as if the now declining summer’s sun had bequeathed its hues to them.  It is the floral solstice a little after midsummer, when the particles of golden light, the sun-dust, have, as it were, fallen like seeds on the earth, and produced these blossoms.  On every hillside, and in every valley, stood countless asters, coreopses, tansies, golden-rods, and the whole race of yellow flowers, like Brahminical devotees, turning steadily with their luminary from morning till night.

     “I see the golden-rod shine bright,
       As sun-showers at the birth of day,
     A golden plume of yellow light,
      That robs the Day-god’s splendid ray.

     “The aster’s violet rays divide
       The bank with many stars for me,
     And yarrow in blanch tints is dyed,
       As moonlight floats across the sea.