244 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
streaks of fog hung over the winding river, shutting 
portions of it and the valley from view. Some of its 
edges were just ruffled by a puff of the morning breeze, 
while here and there it rose in billowy waves and floated 
up the valley; but whether in bars of defined outlines, or 
in undulating waves, it seemed the poetical feature in 
the landscape. The ancients supposed the mists and 
vapors to be the breath of the river gods. Ruskin inter- 
prets the fog to be the Daphne of Grecian mythology, 
and the sun dispelling it, Apollo. He says “ Daphne is 
the daughter of one of the great river gods of Arcadia; 
the earth is her mother; she, in her first life, is the mist 
filling the valley; the sun pursuing, and effacing it from 
dell to dell, is literally Apollo pursuing Daphne.” 
Emily suggests that “more likely these mists are the 
curtains that Amphitrite hangs before her beautiful 
nymphs while they are making their morning toilets.” 
But all fanciful interpretations were dispelled by little 
Anemone, who innocently said, “ Why, mamma, that is 
only fog hanging over the river.” 
The journey back to Buffalo was more direct, but 
made by easy stages, much of it in the early morning, 
or late in the afternoon. At no time did we hurry; but 
whenever the horse showed any signs of weariness, we 
looked for the nearest place of entertainment. Nothing 
tires a sympathetic driver more than to ride after 
a fatigued or hungry animal. In pleasantly discours- 
ing of “Road Horses,” in the April Atlantic, H. C. 
Merwin says: “In fact, a good roadster is something 
like a satisfactory bank account—your pleasure in his 
