tree, and endeavors to excite discord between the eagle and the dragon Nidhòg, who dwells at its root. Four stags spring round the ash-tree and bite its branches: their names are, Dainn, Dvalen, Dunneyr, and Durathzor.”
Many versions of this allegory have been given by different Northern writers, and any one who pleases may try his ingenuity on it, as he sits in the shade of the ash-tree. They are all connected with the good and evil in man; with the good and evil above, and about him,—faint gleams of great truths.
Wednesday, 8th.—Very warm; thermometer 86. It is sad to see how many of our springs are wasting away from the drought; in some places where we are accustomed to meet the limpid waters flowing cheerfully through the fields and woods, we now find a parched and thirsty track; at other points, not entirely dry, an ample fountain has dwindled away to a meagre, dropping rill. Rain is much needed.
Thursday, 9th.—Very warm; thermometer 90. Passed the afternoon and evening on the lake. Land and water were both in great beauty; the lake was in that sweet mood when it seems to take pleasure in reflecting every beautiful object; all the different fields, and buildings, and trees, were repeated with fidelity, while the few white clouds floating above were also clearly given below. The waters of our narrow lake are more frequently seen reflecting the village, the hills, and the woods, than the clouds; in still weather they receive much of their coloring from the shores. But this afternoon we noticed several of these visionary islands lying on its bosom, and whenever seen here, they are the more pleasing from our having nothing more substantial in this way; our islands are all of this shadowy character.
