Nature and the Supernatural 35 



more reptilian in aspect than the sculptor intended, 

 but they are dull of color, solid, immovable, dead — 

 having but a single impression to communicate, 

 that of form, and that not a pleasing one, nor in- 

 tended to be. The camp-fire gargoyles, on the 

 contrary, are of every conceivable grotesqueness in 

 form and action, every ferocity of eye, absurdity of 

 nose, curious lifting of the lips as of an angry beast, 

 constantly changing and reforming — living pictures 

 of the outri done in ash, black, and fire. If one is 

 musing on absent friends, he will see their initials 

 in the fire: the old man those of his absent com- 

 panions, living or dead, the young man those of his 

 sweetheart, the young girl those of the coming 

 prince. 



Though the wind may have been blowing all day, 

 and even though it may have developed into a 

 hurricane, with the setting sun and the gathering 

 shades the air becomes still. "The wind will go 

 down in the evening," we always say. And so the 

 winds should go down around us amid the falling 

 dews and gathering shadows of death. This came 

 to mind to-day when a letter was brought in an- 

 nouncing the death of a friend, a minister, who had 

 literally died of harassing persecution. It filled my 

 eyes with tears and my tongue with maledictions. 

 But the storm that buffeted him is past, and he 

 sleeps well. As I sit under the sleeping trees, an 

 evening is recalled which lies farthest back in my 



