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Soon we must leave our lodge on the edge of the pine barren, our outlook over the salt marsh, our river sweeping up twice a day, bringing in the briny odors of the ocean: soon we should see no more the eagles far above us or hear the night-cry of the great owls, and we must go without the little fairy flowers of the barren, so small that a hundred of them scarcely made a tangible bouquet, yet what beauty! what sweetness!

A smaller kind, Porphyriops melanops, has a night-cry like a burst of shrill hysterical laughter, which has won for it the name of "witch;" while another, Rallus rythyrhynchus, is called "little donkey" from its braying cries. Strange eerie voices have all these birds.

Everything here was new, strange, and solemn. The gigantic trees, encircled by enormous vines, and heavily shrouded in grey funereal moss, mournfully waving in the breeze the doleful night-cry of the death-bird and the whip-poor-will the distant bugle of the advancing boats the moan of the turbid current beneath the silent and queenly moon above, appearing nearer, larger, and brighter than in our cooler latitudes the sultry atmosphere and most of all, perhaps, the sense of the near vicinity of death in this infected region oppressed my spirit with an ominous feeling of solemnity and awe.

Last night, again, I was awakened by Sim crying in his sleep the strange, shrill, tearless night-cry that freezes the blood of the listener. Then I lay an hour awake. Again I thought that one opened the door. I looked to see Rotha. It was she. I believe she was sent to us in the spirit as a messenger of peace and hope hope of that better world which we are soon to reach." The gaoler knocked.

When we came on to good heather again Dan stopped me. "Bide a wee, bide a wee, James," and he took a step from me, and there came at my very ear the lone night-cry of a gull, so weird and melancholy a sound, that but for a low laugh beside me again I would have sworn the bird had passed in the darkness.

If the new God was good, why had He not saved the evangelist? The soul of Squaw Charley tottered. Hark! Overhead, a high-sailing crane bugled. But to the outcast, the lonely night-cry seemed supernatural, a hail from one of the departed! He uncovered his eyes and looked up. Above him stretched the pale, shining ribbon of the Milky Way. Again the crane sounded its rousing, guttural cry.

As he went back to his bed, through the corridor of the patio, he heard a night-cry behind him that made his hair to rise. It was Naomi laughing in her sleep. Israel dreamt again that night, and he believed his second dream to be a vision. It was only a dream, like the first; but what his dream would be to us is nought, and what it was to him is everything.