A FOGGY MORNING. gi 



pany at all times, but mine are not in the gray 

 of a winter morning, and fog-wrapped at that. 

 Nevertheless, longing as I did for others' voices, 

 I protested then and there against my depend- 

 ence upon bird-life. " Are there no other creat- 

 ures astir ? " I asked, and pushed on yet deeper, 

 where the old oaks were clustered. Into what- 

 ever seemed a shelter I peered, and often thrust 

 my arm, in hopes of feeling some furry yet not 

 too responsive mass. Nothing resented my un- 

 mannered intrusion. Then into sundry hollow 

 trees I thrust my cane, thinking at least an owl 

 might be roused from his slumbers ; but ill-luck 

 attended me. 



A little later, as the sun rose fairly high, the 

 upper fog descended, and so far increased the 

 gloom in the forest ; but beyond it, as I looked 

 down a long wood-path, I saw the cold gray light 

 that brightened the outer world, Among the 

 trees there was no dispelling force, and the fog 

 became denser, until, overcome by its own weight, 

 it turned to rain, and such a shower ! The mists 

 of the open air had fled, while through the woods 

 the rain-drops, touched with a mellow light, 

 shone as molten metal. Rebounding from the 

 interlacing twigs above and the carpet of matted 

 leaves below, these golden drops rang up, as 

 might a myriad of bells, the laggard life about me. 

 Rang up the timid shrews, and one darted among 



