MATERNAL INSTINCT. 220 



are in full play, making the lake foam where they 

 pass. There, you are once more in the reeds, settling 

 yourselves with a vast deal of self-congratulation into 

 composure again, while your black heads and eyes 

 turn and nod to catch the first approach of danger. 

 Poor things, you are safe here ; but next fall every rod 

 of your flight from Montauk Point to Barnegat Bay, 

 will be disturbed by the shot of the sportsman, and 

 scarcely a pair of you will be left to revisit this far 

 retreat again ! 



Vain dreaming this, I know, but the listless mood 

 is upon me, and I cannot pull a strong and steady and 

 practical stroke. The waves are out on a frolic — the 

 deer stand idly lashing their tails in the water — the 

 great, green forest just rustles to show that the 

 leaves are all at play — the clouds move lazily across 

 the sky and all nature seems dreaming in this fresh 

 noon-day — and why should / not drink in the influ- 

 ence of the scene ? I know a hard afternoon's toil is 

 before me, and a bivouack on the ground at night, yet 

 I seem enchained here by beauty. Sad thoughts and 

 gentle feelings rise one after another an indistinguish- 

 able throng, and strange memories long since buried, 

 come bade with overpowering freshness. Here the 



