#66 GRALL^E. RALLID^E. 



hurtling of arrows. It is a flock of Wild-ducks 

 flitting from the Salt Island ponds to the Lagoons 

 on the other side the bay : and again there is another 

 sound of gathered tribes moving through the air. 

 It resembles bubbling waters. It is a flight of 

 Tinklings shifting from their rookery to their feed- 

 ing grounds in the morasses. Streams of smoke 

 are curling up from various points of the moun- 

 tains, like the morning sacrifices of hill-worship- 

 pers of old. A shower has scudded along the loftiest 

 of the ridges and shown the deep indentings of 

 the elevated country, by the different depths 

 of the misty haze. It has passed away, and the 

 heights are now lighted by the full blaze of the 

 uprisen sun. The clouds cast deep shadows on 

 the mountain declivities, and the highest points 

 of the chain pierce through the masses, rolling 

 one upon the other, thick and accumulated. 



"The sea-breeze is in. It comes as no other 

 breeze comes, and feels as no other breeze feels. 

 At first two or three whiffles make darkened tracks 

 on the glassy waters. Then half the sea afar off 

 is covered with ripples. The ripples come creep- 

 ing on, and the wind has reached the shore. Two 

 minutes pass, and a line of small breakers are 

 chasing each other on the beach. From this time 

 the constant wind never lulls, but sweeps with 'a 

 steady unrelenting force from the bright east.' 



" Noon. In a small stretch of marsh land, through 

 which the river has cut two or three channels, 

 and left several smaller meandering dykes very 

 clear and open, with pools and little lakes shut 



