samer of the willow-herb and that of the silk-wort are perhaps the most beautiful kinds, so purely white, but the down lies concealed within the pods, and as soon as these are opened the seeds escape, flying off on their beautiful silvery plumes. The down of the asters and golden-rods, however, remains a long time on the plants; and so does that of the fire-weed, which is very white.
What ugly things are the shrivelled thistles at this season! they look utterly worthless, more like the refuse of a past year than plants of this summer's growth; and yet there is life in their withered stalks, for here and there a purple blossom is trying to flower among the ragged branches.
A very large flock of wild ducks, flying northward over the lake, alighted on the water within half a mile of us; there must have been a hundred of them, if not more. We seldom see so many together in our waters.
Friday, 27th.—At early dawn this morning, just as the sky was becoming flushed with sun-rise colors, we saw a large flock of wild geese flying steadily to the southward. They moved in a regular wedge-shaped phalanx, as usual, with their leader a little in advance. Perhaps they had passed the night in our lake; they are frequently seen here, though rarely shot by our “gunners.” They seem often to travel by daylight. The ducks are said to migrate generally at night, especially the Mallard or common wild duck. It was a beautiful sight to see the flock, this morning; it reminded one of Mr. Bryant's noble “Water-fowl,” simply, however, because one never sees the wild fowl travelling through the air, spring or autumn, without thinking of those fine verses. In the present case it was morning, and a whole flock
