44 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



The day suddenly improved in two respects. As I was 

 crossing the river to the mainland it began to rain, and a 

 kingfisher sprung his rattle directly above my head. I am 

 not superstitious beyond what other men are, but the harsh 

 cry of that hopeful bird was more than music then, assur- 

 ing me of a welcome change in the immediate future, 

 although the sky was now as gloomy as a funeral pall, and 

 every drop of the pitiless rain was cold as charity. 



Even though it be an icy rain, some tangible evidence 

 of energy in nature is far more grateful than death-like 

 inactivity, although we know so well that the latter is not 

 real. When out of doors, one never expects to find the 

 world at rest, and anticipates disaster if the appearances 

 but vaguely suggest it. It is said that an ominous silence 

 precedes an earthquake. Neither the silence of to-day 

 nor the kingfisher's cry suggested so soon a change, but I 

 felt that by nightfall there would be a new order issued, 

 and the halcyon's rattle was the apparent herald. 



It would have been foolish indeed to have turned my 

 back upon the cheerful blaze of an open fire, and started 

 out in such rain ; but to face it, in leaving the island, 

 was a veritable relief. What under ordinary circum- 

 stances would be repelling features of such a time were 

 now pleasing and attractive through contrast, and the 

 dripping of the great round drops upon the still adherent 

 leaves of the sapling beeches and oaks that were yet full- 

 leaved was inspiriting music. 



As it was late in the afternoon and stormy too, the 

 prospect was far from cheering as I faced a broad and 

 weedy meadow that must needs be crossed; but I had 

 that confident feeling of being repaid for my trouble 

 which so seldom fails me, however unpromising may seem 

 the outlook to others. 



Of this strange confidence I can not give any definite 

 description, but that it is not a pleasant mental condition 



