An August Reverie. 



U Z GAUNT remarked to me, many years ago, 

 " I never saw the critter, but there's a bird that 

 whistles ' wait a bit' at sunrise, and the day counts 

 for nothing if you listen." To escape the en- 

 snaring charm of this strange bird, start before 

 daylight. Even in so light a matter as an August 

 day-dream, keep the day behind you. Then, too, 

 no one loves to be crowded, and there is more 

 room ahead of time than behind it. 



This is the way in which Zadkiel, the English 

 astrologer, forecasts the character of this August 

 day : " Travel and visit thy friends." Not all of 

 my friends are asleep at 3 a.m., if, so be it, we have 

 cultivated the good graces of our non-human 

 neighbors. As I left my home, the harvest-moon, 

 in filmy drapery, still held court, and the morning 

 star shone with darkest midnight's deepest bril- 



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