TKOLLING. 489 



we went for a weary time the same noiseless way — when 

 suddenly our curse came again, and I remembered — 



"Down dropt fhe treeie, the sails dropt down, 

 'Twas sad as sad conld be" 



And then : 



« A]l in a hot and copper sky, 

 The bloody snn, at noon," &c. &c. 



I Terily shuddered as I felt the hot stagnation settle upon 

 my forehead and my lungs. I looked appealingly to Piscator. 

 TVTiat ? Horror 1 — the despairing wretch 1 — the disappoint- 

 ment and aU has been too much for him ! With head thrown 

 back, and eyes rolling wildly towards the zenith — ^his large 

 manly throat bared, he held — the brandy flask to his lips ! — 

 the forgotten brandy flask I and then my time came. I 

 imbibed from it contemplatively and laid it aside solemnly. 

 I had rested the end of my rod in the gunwale of the boat, 

 and did not take it up again. I laid myself reposefnUy in 

 the bow. The vanity of all sublunary things — but most 

 that of troUing for lakers out of season, had been made 

 apparent to me. I looked up to the clouds — above us. they 

 had vanished, and all was "a hot and copper sky:" as if 

 to the spell of some strange wizard of the Xorth, their 

 careering legions had been called down and rested toward 

 the pole upon the mountain tops — stDl ! — still as if they 

 paused in the terror of a weird necromancy, which held 

 them frozen in its dreadful wiQ. They were strangely piled, 

 and strewn, and marshalled. I never saw such clouds before 

 — ^the forms were all of white, with a dark distinct outline. 

 I became strangely elated and laughed out wildly, and then 

 muttered — 



"Aye, yonder is the pageant of our Hves — the substance 

 whereof our realities are made, and yet how strange it seems, 

 how it has become so palpable. Look at it closely ; you will 

 see there 



