112 



THE SHORES. 



tlie heron has enough, nay, he has a foot too many; he folds under his 



wing the other; and nearly always his lame figure is thus defined 



against the sky in a fantastical hieroglyph. 



Whoever has lived in history, in the study of fallen races and 



empires, is tempted to see herein 

 — --i ^-— ^g ^^^^^^^ _z- '^11 image of decay. Yonder bird 

 ^^^^ ^^^^^^ '^ ^ great ruined lord, a de- 



throned king, or I am much mis- 

 taken. No creature issues fi'om 

 Nature's hands in so miserable a 

 condition. Therefore I ventured 

 to interrogate this dreamer, and I 

 said to him from a distance the 

 following words, which his most 

 delicate hearing caught exactly: — 

 " My fisher-friend, wouldst thou 

 oblige me by explaining (without 

 abandoning thy present position), 

 why, always so melancholy, thou 

 scemest doubly melancholy to-day? 

 Hath thy prey failed thee ? Have 

 the too subtle fish deceived thine 

 ej'es ? Does the mocking frog defy 

 thee from the bottom of the 

 waters ?" 



" No ; neither fish nor frogs 

 have made sport of the heron. But 

 the heron laughs at himself, despises 

 himself, when he remembers the 



glory of his noble race, and the bird of the olden times. 



"Thou wouldst know wherefore I dream? Ask the Indian chief 



of the Cherokees, or the lowas, why for long days he leans his head 



upon his hand, marking on the tree before him an object which was 



never there ? 



