120 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 



on deck. The fresh mist blew in our faces with sicken- 

 ing eifect, and the sun — then two hours high — was invis- 

 ible. The shore, which was so near that the breaking of 

 twigs could be heard, as cattle, or game moved about on 

 it, was indiscernible. Even the end of the boat opposite 

 to the one on which we stood was invisible. A deep, 

 damp, opaque Mississippi river fog, had swallowed us 

 up. 



As the sun continued to rise and gain strength in 

 its ascent, its rays penetrated through the gloom, and 

 we at last discovered it, working its way through the 

 fog by its rays, reaching them out as a debilitated spider 

 would his legs, and apparently with the same caution 

 and labor. 



With the growing heat a gentle breeze sprang up, 

 and the fog rolled about in huge masses, leaving spots 

 of pure atmosphere, and then closing them up ; gradu- 

 ally the air became more and more rarefied, and things 

 at a distance began to appear all magnified and myste- 

 rious. 



On came the sun, brightening and enlarging, until 

 his streaming rays dipped into the water, and shot up to 

 the zenith. 



The fog, no longer able to keep its consistency, re- 

 tired before its splendor in little clouds, which would 

 sometimes rally, and spread over the surface of the 

 river, then, breaking asunder, vanish away into air, with 

 a splendor that rivalled the dying dolphin's tints. 



