of branches, were fadings gleams of something white; whether the nymphs' white robes, or a mist rising from the valley, I know not.
But how I mourned for those vanished goddesses!
Dec. 1878.
FRIEND AND ENEMY
A prisoner, condemned to confinement for life, broke out of his prison and took to head-long flight. . . . After him, just on his heels flew his gaolers in pursuit.
He ran with all his might. . . . His pursuers began to be left behind.
But behold, before him was a river with precipitous banks, a narrow, but deep river. . . . And he could not swim!
A thin rotten plank had been thrown across from one bank to the other. The fugitive already had his foot upon it. . . . But it so happened that just there beside the river stood his best friend and his bitterest enemy.
His enemy said nothing, he merely folded his arms; but the friend shrieked at the top of his voice: 'Heavens! What are you doing? Madman, think what you're about! Don't you see the plank's utterly rotten? It will
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