290 IN BERKSHIRE FIELDS 



at night! It was still and cold. The katydids were 

 silent at last. Only an owl, far up the ravine, hooted 

 mournfully, and an invisible wind, invisible and 

 down here unfelt, whispered on the upper ledges. 



It sounded like the rustle of the Milky Way! 



"Can it be I have a fever, after all?" thought I, 

 and bade my mountain a hasty good-night. 



