A MOKNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 243 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
A MORNING WITH NATURE, AND AN AFTERNOON WITH 
THE DUCKS 
ONE pleasant afternoon in the month of November, 
1887, I sat at my office window, admiring the beautiful 
day, as the sun shone warmly, brightening every ob- 
ject and causing the floating ice to glisten like silver 
as it piled up on the outjetting points on the Missis- 
sippi river. It brought back to me pleasant recollections 
of a day similar, and at once my thoughts wandered in- 
to fairy land,—at least so far away that I picked up 
my pen and allowed it to drift along by the current 
of my thoughts until the last hours of the declining 
day cast the sun’s bright gleams on the variegated 
leaves, so plainly to be seen on the tall trees, fluttering 
their brown and golden shapes in the slight breeze, as 
they fell to the ground carpeting the earth with a soft 
covering, victims of the blighting touch of Jack Frost. 
I wrote and wrote, wandering in an earthly paradise. 
Before me nothing was discernible except the grand 
sight [ had once enjoyed, and in my vision that glorious 
morning was so plainly to be seen that all else was for- 
gotten; and once again I was far from city hum, float- 
ing down the river on the broad surface of the Missis- 
sippi. Awakening from my pleasant reverie, I saw it 
was twilight. Hastily putting my manuscript together, 
I thought an instant, then christened it. ‘ A morning 
with Nature, and an afternoon with the ducks.” 
