566 
The osprey, notwithstanding the abun- 
dance of his scaly prey, is not common: 
probably the field is too limited for him. 
Ducks are the attraction of the other 
large species. In summer, ducks are 
rather secondary among the water-birds, 
the ibis, water-turkey, and flamingo im- 
parting a tropical character to the scene 
that somewhat obscures the more famil- 
iar forms. There is even a survival here 
of birds that have nearly disappeared 
from the American fauna,— the paro- 
quet, once so common in the Mississippi 
Valley as far north as the Ohio, being 
sometimes seen, and, if I mistake not, 
a second species of humming-bird stray- 
ing north by way of Mexico. 
From where we stand, under a canopy 
of rich green leaves, looking out upon 
the sunny water through a banian-like 
colonnade of mighty trunks and hang- 
ing vines, the pearly moss tempering the 
light like jalousies, summer seems but 
a relative idea. Fly-catchers flit back 
and forth, barn-swallows and sand-mar- 
tins skim the lake, and an occasional 
splash or ripple at our feet shows that 
humbler life is getting astir. The high- 
est life, or what modest man calls such, 
we have all to ourselves. Yet not quite; 
for there is visible yonder, beneath the 
outer tip of a live-oak which we have 
found to stretch and droop twenty-four 
paces from the seven-foot trunk, a little 
fleet of canoes. They belong to the pro- 
THE FERRYMAN’S FEE. 
[Dxc. 
fessional fisherman whose too tarry nets 
are quite an encumbrance for some yards 
of the sandy beach, and whose well may 
be noticed about a rifle-shot out from 
the shore. More than that, though Pis- 
cator is absent, some one is inspecting 
his boats. In fact,—and it is simple 
fact, and I am not smuggling in a bit of 
padding in the shape of sentiment,—two 
persons become perceptible, both with 
their backs towards us, now and studied- 
ly all the time. One, a man, chooses a 
boat after trying several, and, with simi- 
Jar show of unavoidable delay, is cush- 
ioning the seats with carefully-arranged 
moss in four times the necessary quan- 
tity. During this absorbing process he 
rips one of his cuffs, or tears off a but- 
ton from it, or smears it with the tar 
that besets the boat and its oars. This 
calamity supplies the lady, a neat young 
person, with a pretext for occupation, 
and she uses it to the fullest and most 
affectionate extent. It is growing late, 
and unless we relieve the couple of our 
obviously detected presence we shall de- 
prive them of their Sunday-afternoon 
row. That it isa row with the stream 
we find ten days later, when their wed- 
ding becomes the sensation of the little 
village. ’ 
The old, old story! how pat it comes 
in! How could it have failed to come 
in, when the talk is of birds? 
Epwarp C. Bruce. 
THE FERRYMAN’S FEE. 
IL. 
«"T AM going,” said the professor to 
his friend Miss Eldridge, “ to 
marry a young woman whose mind I 
can mould.” 
Somebody was uncharitable enough to 
say that he couldn’t possibly make it 
any mouldier than his own. This was 
a slander. In the high dry Greek atmos- 
phere which surrounded and enclosed 
his mind, mould, which requires damp- 
ness before it can exist, was an impossi- 
bility. 
When an engagement is announced, 
it is almost invariably followed by one 
question, with a variable termination. 
The dear five hundred friends exclaim, 
with uplifted hands,— 
