SWAMP SKETCHES. 53 



with suspended breath, but not a sound came 

 to my ears. There must have followed 

 nearly an hour of utter silence, such as no 

 inexperienced person can possibly imagine, a 

 silence felt as a positive element far exceed- 

 ing in impressiveness the mere absence of all 

 sounds. 



No doubt my self -consciousness, as I sat 

 there systematically observing every sensa- 

 tion and every fancy generated by the sur- 

 roundings, helped to heighten the influence 

 of the situation. Moreover, there was an at- 

 mospheric oppressiveness owing to the dense- 

 ness of the jungle and the lack of free ven- 

 tilation. 



It was with a sense of relief that I noted 

 the first gleam that foretold the coming of the 

 moon ; but instead of softening the effect the 

 slowly-increasing light added a myriad gro- 

 tesque features to the landscape around me. 



I could understand now how the early 

 Spanish and French explorers of these South- 

 ern regions came to tell such wonderful sto- 

 ries of old castles in Florida, and of ruined 

 cities in the midst of almost impenetrable 

 swamps; for when the moonshine became 

 strong enough to guide me I wandered from 

 place to place, fastening in my memory the 

 scenes as they appeared, and the commonest 

 form of the cypress and live oak clumps seen 

 beyond any opening, especially over water, 

 were those of ruined villas and castles, old 

 moats, and crumbling battlements. 



The frogs and alligators began a desultory 

 grunting and booming as the moon came up, 

 but these sounds died out soon, giving way, 

 apparently, to the wild hilarity of a great 

 laughing owl, whose voice was equal to a 

 medium steam whistle in its shrillness and 



