TICKS. 311 



stant itching no longer, so by the light of the watch- 

 fire I made an examination. The result was that I 

 discovered that in my tramp I had picked up several 

 ticks, which were endeavouring to bury themselves 

 in my hide. Half-an-hour's close search relieved 

 me of these vermin, but the caresses of Somnus, so 

 ruthlessly dispelled, could not be recalled although 

 I sought him with the most devoted assiduity. 



The kat-I-dids and whip-poor-wills sung out 

 without cessation their soothing and plaintive 

 notes, but my ears would not listen to the voices of 

 those charmers which so often previously had invited 

 me to rest. 



Over the hills and far away my spirit ultimately 

 fled, to be recalled to my present situation by the 

 voice of a midnight prowler whose deeds were by 

 choice those of darkness. What incomprehensible 

 beings we are ! How seldom are our likes and dislikes 

 the same ! Tired, wearied, possibly disgusted with 

 life, I find myself with a maudlin regard for an 

 animal I should hate. When I was a child an un- 

 known sound, particularly heard at night, would 

 cause a cold shiver to pervade my system. A ghost 

 story would so terrify me, that even when provided 

 with a candle I feared to pass through the hall and 

 passages that were necessary to traverse to reach my 

 dormitory ; but a story of a bloodthirsty tiger, or a 

 sanguinary wolf that had ravaged a neighbourhood, 

 eaten any quantity of women and children, and 

 intimidated all by making night fearful with his 



