OCTOBER. 247 



up I was held down in a cloud. Space, save the little 

 grass-plot at my feet, was shut out. Think of standing 

 nowhere on a bit of sod ! 



Such were the fog- wrapped meadows yesterday. Guess- 

 ing the direction, I struck out, but never knew where I 

 was until some familiar object solemnly ushered itself into 

 my meager range of vision. The silence was absolute at 

 first. Even the adhering drops that I brushed from the 

 taller grass and bushes rolled noiselessly to the ground. 

 The sound of my own footsteps was muffled and borne 

 earthward before it reached me. Passing on, the density 

 of the vapor was somewhat less pronounced, and faint 

 sounds came from many directions, but none was dis- 

 tinguishable. Finally I saw a song-sparrow scarcely an 

 arm's length away. It made no attempt to fly, but drop- 

 ping from the bush hopped off into fog- wrapped space. 

 Reaching the marshes, I found the little rail birds happy. 

 They cackled more loudly and incessantly than ever be- 

 fore, but I saw none. Skirting the marsh, for I now had 

 a clew to my whereabouts, I passed to my neighbor's past- 

 ure, when a curious sound, one wholly new to me, was 

 heard. To learn its origin became an interesting prob- 

 lem, and I strove to proceed in the apparent direction of 

 the sound's course. This was no easy matter, and whether 

 I was going east or west soon became a question I could 

 not answer; but the strange noise never ceased, and I 

 kept on. Suddenly a familiar clump of bushes was dimly 

 outlined before me, and I knew that I was near the rail- 

 road. Not a safe place certainly, but I followed the track 

 without walking upon it. The low cat-like cry as of 

 an animal in distress, so the strange sound now seemed, 

 was still heard, and appeared to come from the direction 

 in which I was going. I was delighted at my success, 

 and felt sure of being on the eve of a discovery. What 

 that feeling is the rambler well knows. Then the sound 



