118 AUTUMN TIDES. 



rent, but the season seems to drift a little this way, 

 or a little that, just as the breeze happens to freshen 

 a little in one quarter or the other. The fall of '74 

 was the most remarkable in this respect I remember 

 ever to have seen. The equilibrium of the season 

 lasted from the middle of October till near December, 

 with scarcely a break. There were six weeks of In- 

 dian summer, all gold by day, and when the moon 

 came, all silver by night. The river was so smooth 

 at times as to be almost invisible, and in its place, 

 was the indefinite continuation of the opposite shore 

 down toward the nether world. One seemed to be in 

 an enchanted land, and to breathe all day the atmos- 

 phere of fable and romance. Not a smoke, but a 

 kind of shining nimbus filled all the spaces. The 

 vessels would drift by as if in mid air with all their 

 sails set. The gypsy blood in one, as Lowell calls it, 

 could hardly stay between four walls and see such 

 days go by. Living in tents, in groves and on the 

 hills, seemed the only natural life. 



Late in December we had glimpses of the same 

 weather, the earth had not yet passed all the golden 

 isles. On the 27th of that month, I find I made this 

 entry in my note-book : " A soft hazy day, the year 

 asleep and dreaming of the Indian summer again. 

 Not a breath of air and not a ripple on the river. 

 The sunshine is hot as it falls across my table." 



Bu v what a terrible winter followed ! what a sav- 

 age chief the fair Indian maiden gave birth to ! 



This halcyon period of our autumn will always in 



