84 BY-WAYS AND BIRD-NOTES. 
cane, only now and then, to push us away © 
from a dangerous breaker. The day, which — 
had been a singularly fine one, was now fast 
drawing to its close, the sun having fallen be- 
hind the ridge, and a soft bloom hung directly 
over us—a shadow overtopped by the vast 
reaches of yellow sunshine. Our flight, how- 
ever, would be short and the rapids would 
swallow us, or happily we would swing round 
the mountain’s wall and slip down the gentler 
current beyond to tke guide’s cabin, before the 
coming of twilight, possibly before sunset. 
The guide had described to me, in his 
grimly laconic way, how he had frequently 
passed these rapids for the mere excitement 
of the adventure. I was the first man he had 
ever led into this cove and he was sure that 
no human being, himself excepted, had ever 
before set foot here. This communication 
was sufficient of itself to brace me beyond any 
fear, even if I had been a most nervous man, 
instead of a resolute naturalist used to danger. 
Therefore I looked forward to the catastrophe 
of this little drama with a calm mind and even 
pulse, toying, meanwhile, with the curious 
fancy that the halcyon was luring us on to de- 
struction. 
I was once talking with a great man, whose 
profound knowledge and wise judgment would 
seem to preclude trivial fancies from his mind, 
and was surprised at hearing him tell how 
often, in his moments of solitude, his imagina- 
tion or fancy would fasten upon some insignifi- 
cant thing as ominous or prophetic. A gay | 
beetle dancing in, the sunlight before him; a | 
withered leaf blown across his path; a sud- | 
denly discovered violet or flower-de-luce ; the | 
