Impressions 



years later is identical. Here in the marsh 

 there is no "antique" furniture palmed off 

 upon us, made a year ago, by some cunning 

 artisan, 



A good old Quaker lady in her kindly un- 

 grammatical way was wont to say to me when- 

 ever I expressed a determination to take a noc- 

 turnal outing, "Thee '11 surely get the chills," 

 but the warning was never heeded. A possible 

 shaking should not frighten us off. It is worth 

 the risk, considering there is still* an abundance 

 of quinine. The serious part of it all is after 

 the outing, when the story of it is to be told. 

 The tamest thing in the world is a description. 



There are so many strange sounds heard at 

 night that only a visit to the woods or fields or 

 a marsh such as that I have been wandering 

 over can give us an adequate idea of the abun- 

 dance of wild life still remaining and holding 

 its own against ceaseless persecution. We re- 

 alize now how many creatures, both furred and 

 feathered, effectually conceal themselves during 

 the day. 



These were the sounds I recognized as I stood 

 alone on the sobbing marsh, for the mud at this 

 time — at low tide — is constantly sobbing, or 



79 



