A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



&quot; It is a beautiful and dreamy day,&quot; I said 

 platitudinously enough. &quot;But it cannot be half 

 so beautiful to you, who are familiar with Nature, 

 as to me. I have been in a sort of Oriental swoon 

 ever since I came out.&quot; 



&quot;It s a weather-breeder, according to Uncle 

 Gabe,&quot; said Daphne, with her two hands at the 

 back of her hair. 



&quot; It reminds me of a day I spent at Capri, and 

 ate raspberries and white figs, and drank wine 

 that smelled of violets. It is a magical isle; one 

 can never get it out of his memory.&quot; 



&quot;And this Indian summer reminds you of it, 

 you say ? &quot; 



&quot; Why, yes. I met a beautiful woman there.&quot; 



&quot; And she died, didn t she ? &quot; 



&quot;No she s alive yet. I met her in my 

 fancy.&quot; 



&quot; Oh. Gabe says there s a nor easter coming to 

 fill up the ponds. I guess this is the last of the 

 pleasant days.&quot; 



&quot; I hope not,&quot; I said. &quot; Only the last of the 

 Indian summer. After all, the weather has very 

 little to do with one s feelings.&quot; 



And then there came a soft sigh from the marsh, 

 with the floss of the cattails spinning in it, and it 

 seemed to say to me, reproachfully, &quot; What a liar 

 you are.&quot; 



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