People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 February 1894 — MATT A TALE OF A CARAVAN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

MATT A TALE OF A CARAVAN

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.

CHAPTER 11.—Continued. “At the present moment I am encamped in a spot where, in all probability, I shall remain for days. I came upon it quite by accident about midday yesterday, when on my way to the market town of Pencroes; or, rather, when I imagined that I was going thither, while I had, in reality, after hesitating at three cross-roads, taken the road which led exactly in the opposite direction. The way was desolate and dreary beyond measure—stretches of morass and moorland on every side, occasionally rising into heathery knolls or hillocks, or strewed with huge pieces of stone like the moors of Cornwall. Presently the open moorland ended, and we entered a region of sandy hillocks, sparsely ornamented hero and there with long, harsh grass. If one could imagine the waves of the ocean, at some moment of wild agitation, suddenly frozen to stillness, and retaining intact these tempestuous forms, it would give some idea of the hillocks I am describing. They rose on every side of the road, completely shutting out the view, and their pale, livid yellowness, scarcely relieved with a glimpse of greenness, was wearisome and lonely in the extreme. As we advanced among them, the road we were pursuing grew worse and worse, till it became so choked and covered" with drift and sand as to be scarcely recognizable, and I need hardly say that it Was hard work for one horse to pull the caravan along; more than once, indeed, the wheels fairly stuck, and Tim ind I had to pull with might and main to get them free. ‘ We had proceeded in this manner tor some miles, and I was beginning to realize the fact that we were out of our reckoning, when, suddenly emerging from between two sand hills, I saw • wide stretch of green meadow land,

and beyond it a glorified piece ®f water. The sun was shining brightly, the water sparkled like a mirror, calm as glass, and without a breath. As we appeared a large heron rose from the apot t>n the waterside where he had • been standing—- “ Still as a stone, without a sound, Above his dim blue shade—>nd sailed leisurely away. Around the lake, which was about a mile in circumference, the road ran winding till tt reached the further side, where more eand hills began; but between these 6and hills I caught a sparkling glimpse hf more water, and (guided to my conclusion by the red sail of a fishing smack just glimmering on the horizon line) I knew that further water was- - the sea. “The spot had all the attraction of complete desolation, combined with the charm which always, to my mind, pertains to lakes and lagoons. Eager as a boy or a loosened retriever I ran across the meadow and found the grass long and green, and sown with innumerable crowsfoot flowers; underneath the green was sand again, but here it glimmered like gold-dust. As I reached the sedges on the lake-side a teal rose, in full summer plumage, wheeled swiftly round the lake, then returning splashed down boldly and swam within a stone’s throw of the shore; when, peering through the rushes, I caught a glimpse of his mate, paddling anxiously along with eight little fluffs of down behind her. Then, just outside, the sedges, I saw the golden shield of water broken by the circle? of flsing trout. It was too much. I hastened back to the caravan and informed Tim that I had no intention of going any further -that day, at least. “So here we have been since yesterday and, up to this, have not set eyes upon a single soul. Such peace and quietness Is a foretaste of Paradise. As this is the most satisfactory day I have yet spent in my pilgrimage, although it bears, at. the same time, a family likeness to the other days of the past fortnight, I purpose setting down, verbatim seriatim, and chrono-

RATTHER EMBARRASSING.