AN EMBLEM OF DEATH. 201 



they are shut from sight by the clouds they have 

 engendered. All weather, all measure of time, 

 all energy, all life, all work of man or other 

 lowly creatures here on earth, all of everything 

 which is, has been, or will be, is from the begin- 

 ning to the end at thy mercy and upon thee 

 dependent. O my sun! 



"Once again thou flamest heavenward, 



Once again we see thee rise, 

 Thee the God-like, thee the changeless, 

 In thine ever changing skies." 



At 7:30 I started down stream for a day's 

 fishing over territory which I had never fished 

 before. By noon a dozen goggle-eyes and as 

 many sunfish were on my string and I paused 

 for an hour or more by the side of a crystal 

 spring to eat my lunch and indulge in revery. 



A buzzard, silent of voice but keen of eye and 

 keener of scent, soars and flaps, turns and rises 

 above the trees, his curiosity perhaps aroused 

 by my half recumbent form. Finally he alights 

 on the top of a dead sycamore and gazes down 

 at me. Emblem of death is he and perhaps 

 sniffing the air this very second to see if my 

 decay has begun. Meanwhile mosquitoes be- 

 come more numerous than I have seen them for 

 many a day, flocking about me with exasperat- 

 ing drone. Nine have I sent to a permanent 

 mosquito heaven, where appetite for human gore 

 is never known, yet another and another come 



