GHOSTS OF THE NORTHEASTER 199 



things is always that, at the time, no matter what 

 a man's training and experience, he feels creep- 

 ing back and forth in his bones the old, pale 

 terror of primitive man in the presence of such 

 things. Science has veneered us with knowledge 

 of phosphorus and the chemic action of fungi and 

 the effects of darkness and of light, but a half 

 hour's tramp into the wet woods while a north- 

 easter blows through the darkness takes all the 

 gloss off that. We may go boldly on our way 

 with undiminished front, but something always 

 stirs uneasily within us and looks out at the back 

 of the neck to see if that scattered glow has not 

 reassembled and followed us. 



Soon the path led me up out of the swamp, the 

 sooner perhaps for the glowing eyes of foxfire 

 now far behind, and I caught the beckoning 

 gleam of electric light through the quiver of the 

 rain. From the brow of cemetery hill the coun- 

 try below rose from velvety blackness of com- 

 plete night to a gray sky that was somehow com- 

 forting and friendly. Through it, far down the 

 road toward Blue Hill, the street lamps glowed 

 yellow through the gloom, showing the route to 

 the invisible hill. The wind crooned in the pines, 

 and the swish of sheeted rain seemed a lullaby. 



