Impressions 



years later is identical. Here in the marsh 

 there is no " antique " furniture palmed off 

 upon us, made a year ago, by some cunning 

 artisan. 



A good old Quaker lady in her kindly un- 

 grammatical way was wont to say to me when- 

 ever I expressed a determination to take a noc- 

 turnal outing, " Thee '11 surely get the chills," 

 but the warning was never heeded. A possible 

 shaking should not frighten us off. It is worth 

 the risk, considering there is still an abundance 

 of quinine. The serious part of it all is after 

 the outing, when the story of it is to be told. 

 The tamest thing in the world is a description. 



There are so many strange sounds heard at 

 night that only a visit to the woods or fields or 

 a marsh such as that I have been wandering 

 over can give us an adequate idea of the abun- 

 dance of wild life still remaining and holding 

 its own against ceaseless persecution. We re- 

 alize now how many creatures, both furred and 

 feathered, effectually conceal themselves during 

 the day. 



These were the sounds I recognized as I stood 

 alone on the sobbing marsh, for the mud at this 

 time at low tide is constantly sobbing, or 



79 



