CHAPTER XIV. 



THE DROWNED LANDS. 



" Seekest thou the plashy brink 



Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 

 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 

 On the chafed ocean's side ? 



****** 



"And soon thy toil shall end, 



Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest, 

 And scream among thy fellows — reeds shall bend 

 Soon o'er thy sheltered nest." 



Bryant. 



Foe some time past, on the mainland, we had been noticing the 

 signs of the departing year, and at Bonda Key these indications 

 became more marked and numerous. The air had not lost its 

 balsam or the leaf its colour, yet there were other shadows on 

 nature's dial slighter in appearance, but as true in reality. The 

 ear missed the whir in the evening air of those summer insects, 

 whose short lives had already terminated. The eye saw a clear- 

 ness in the atmosphere that brought objects several miles distant 

 apparently near at hand, and sometimes elevated them above the 

 horizon. Some birds that wore in summer the livery of the rain- 

 bow had apparelled themselves in plainer garments, and from day 

 to day new arrivals among migratory tribes of the air would recall 

 the mind to those northern hills where the jagged pine and 

 lichened rock were already grey with the first flurry of snow. We 

 were all standing one morning at the " creak o' day," on the island, 

 watching the first effects of the sun before its rising, and noting 

 the little indications of the progress nature had made during the 

 night. Thus travellers at sea will come forth early in the morn- 

 ing, and for a few minutes scan the ocean and ship, and note 

 the bearings and the winds before they turn to the regular thoughts 

 and occupations of the day. 



