motes of tbe IFUgbt 



indefinite outline of everything makes the observer 

 painfully uncertain, and, strange to say, fixed ob- 

 jects frequently appear to move, and even to ap- 

 proach the beholder. Hence a deal of this world's 

 superstition. If cedar-trees would but cease to 

 dance in the gloaming, and vine-clad fence-posts 

 remain where they belong, the number of ghosts 

 would be materially lessened. Often have I waited 

 for a small juniper or slender cedar to come up to 

 me; and while I stood in this uncertain mood 

 the thought arose, What manner of man may this 

 prove to be ? which is no pleasant train of 

 thought when alone in the wilderness. 



Twilight magnifies; and the low bushes that 

 sparsely dot a neglected pasture spread out and out 

 until the open country becomes a forest. How very 

 quickly, too, every such scene changes when the 

 wind carries with it a veil of cloud. The dusky 

 landscape passes out of sight. With the fading light 

 temporarily shut out, near objects withdraw, leav- 

 ing a lengthening void. This tricky feature of 

 twilight is most pronounced when clouds obscure 

 the moon, and suddenly pass by. The wave of 

 darkness and flood of pallid light in quick succes- 

 sion put the world in motion, and nothing, even 

 to the hills themselves, is fixed. Often, too, a 

 brief, weird change comes without any intimation 

 of its approach, when the dim light is fast fading, 

 and we are on the threshold of night. A pyramid 

 of pale light flickers in the northwest. Its apex 



