112 THE SHORES. 
the heron has enough, nay, he has a foot too many; he folds under his . 
wing the other; and nearly always his lame figure is thus defined 
against the sky in a fantastical hieroglyph. 
Whoever has lived in history, in the study of fallen races and 
empires, is tempted to see herein 
an image of decay. Yonder bird 
is a great ruined lord, a de- 
throned king, or I am much mis- 
taken. No creature issues from 
Nature’s hands in so miserable a 
condition. Therefore I ventured 
to interrogate this dreamer, and I 
said to him from a distance the 
following words, which his most 
delicate hearing caught exactly :— 
“My fisher-friend, wouldst thou 
oblige me by explaining (without 
abandoning thy present position), 
why, always so melancholy, thou 
seemest doubly melancholy to-day? 
Hath thy prey failed thee? Have 
the too subtle fish deceived thine 
eyes? Does the mocking frog defy 
thee from the bottom of the 
waters ?” 
“No; neither fish nor frogs 
have made sport of the heron. But 
the heron laughs at himself, despises 
himself, when he remembers the 
vlory of his noble race, and the bird of the olden times. 
“Thou wouldst know wherefore I dream? Ask the Indian chief 
of the Cherokees, or the Iowas, why for long days he leans his head 
upon his hand, marking on the tree before him an object which was 
never there ? 
