AUTUMN TIDES 



middle of October till near December, with 

 scarcely a break. There were six weeks of 

 Indian summer, all gold by day, and, when 

 the moon came, all silver by night. The 

 river was so smooth at times as to be almost 

 invisible, and in its place was the indefinite 

 continuation of the opposite shore down 

 toward the nether world. One seemed to 

 be in an enchanted land and to breathe all 

 day the atmosphere of fable and romance. 

 Not a smoke, but a kind of shining nimbus 

 filled all the spaces. The vessels would 

 drift by as if in mid-air with all their sails 

 set. The gypsy blood in one, as Lowell 

 calls it, could hardly stay between four walls 

 and see such days go by. Living in tents, 

 in groves and on the hills, seemed the only 

 natural life. 



Late in December we had glimpses of 

 the same weather, the earth had not yet 

 passed all the golden isles. On the 2/th 

 of that month, I find I made this entry in 

 my note-book : " A soft, hazy day, the year 

 asleep and dreaming of the Indian summer 

 again. Not a breath of air and not a ripple 

 on the river. The sunshine is hot as it falls 

 across my table." 



But what a terrible winter followed ! what 

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