50 TROPIC DAYS 



merry roysterers, without a care or thought of the 

 morrow. It was a love-feast, for the still night seemed 

 to invite the trees to give of their richest and best ; the 

 psalm of the insects was audible, not to the distance 

 whence the perfume was dissipated, but for many a 

 scented yard. The trees seemed sanctified, and I stood 

 bare-headed among them and gave my silent praise for 

 a delightsome experience. Expectancy and patience 

 had been overpaid. 



