THE LANDING. 253 



smith's shop is more than twenty feet nearer heaven, 

 but I do not. If I am "farther off from heaven than 

 when I was a boy," I still have no lack of company in 

 the wee beasties, pretty birds, and brilliant butterflies 

 that forty years have never failed to make this lower 

 region all that I wished. 



Again afloat, I pushed, since it was a little past high 

 tide, into the wild-rice that clusters on a marshy island 

 near, and there, hid from the outside world, watched the 

 slowly descending sun. It was a fit place wherein to 

 realize what is solitude. The marsh-wrens for a while 

 seemed to stand in awe of me, and I heard no sound 

 save the distant cawing of a crow. Somewhat weary, 

 I lay flat upon my back and kept company with the 

 clouds. But the feathered world soon spied me out. The 

 wrens grew bold, and anon a " moping heron," that for 

 long had been standing " motionless and stiff," came 

 slowly towards me, and with one wild barbaric yawp, 

 published my whereabouts to every creature. As once 

 before, I soon became an object of interest, and while 

 returning the curious gaze of many birds, forgot that the 

 tide never takes a rest ; and so, when the increasing dark- 

 ness bade me hurry home, I found myself stranded on a 

 fathomless expanse of quivering mud. The mud would 

 not bear my weight, or else I could have waded to the 

 running water and dragged the boat after me ; so I set- 

 tled down, with no good grace, to wait for hours before 

 I could go home. 



Had I desired to spend an evening on the marsh, no 

 doubt but I should have found an abundance of enter- 



