THE THRESHOLD OF THE GODS. 91 



effort. We were nearly opposite a grand 

 opening in those stately trees, out of which 

 seemed to issue the silvery line which cut the 

 river. I leaned forward, with suspended 

 breath, to catch a glimpse right down it as we 

 should pass. The gods were there, I knew 

 they were ; I should see some one of them, at 

 least, if only a sylvan faun or satyr, or a dryad 

 slowly withdrawing into the heart of a tree. 

 Deus ecce! Deus. 



That great white bird came out of the shad 

 ows of the woods again, and curving its flight 

 down the stream seemed to melt into the mist. 

 A sensation of dewy coolness crept over me, 

 as if shaken from the rorid sandals of some 

 passing naiad. The bank of the river opposite 

 to the ridge s precipice now presented a gay, 

 almost fantastic appearance. Tall, aquatic 

 grasses, thinly interspersed with certain scar 

 let-spiked riparian weeds, were sown at the 

 water s verge ; their long slender stalks and 

 semi-translucent leaves, waving to the impulse 

 of air and water-ripple, sent forth a sort of 

 shimmer like that which Virgil intended to 

 describe with the phrase &quot; Turn silvis scena 

 coruscis &quot; a waving motion with light flashing 

 and flickering through. Right opposite this a 

 narrow, vertical rent intersected the ridge, and 

 through it an almost level finger of the sun 

 reached to caress the grass. Just as we passed 

 I noted, by an instantaneous glance, a strange 

 and beautiful thing a troop of dragon-flies, 

 purple-bodied and silver-winged, filing rapidly, 

 in open order of ones and twos, across the 

 sunlight into the dewy recesses of the river s 

 fringe. Each gaudy insect, as it flew, wavered 

 in the air so dreamily and eccentrically that 



