trusting now to Barney's sagacity, now to the pioneering abilities of
Artist and Scribe, who marched in the van. Fireflies flitted about,
their unusual brilliancy often cheating us into the fond hope that
shelter was at hand. The ignes-fatui in the valley below often added to
the deception, and after many disappointments we were about to spread
our blankets upon the earth and prepare for a night's rest _al fresco_
when we heard a distant cow-call. Clear and melodious as the far-off
"Ranz des Vaches" it broke upon the stillness, gladdening all our
hearts. How we answered it, how we hastened over logs and through
thickets in the direction of answering voices and glancing lights--no
ignes-fatui now--how we were met halfway by an entire family whom we
had aroused, and with what astonishment we heard ourselves addressed by
name,--can better be imagined than described. By the happiest of
chances we had come upon the home of some people whom we had casually
met upon the St. John's River only a few weeks before, and our dearest
and oldest friends could not have welcomed us more cordially or have
been more gladly met by us.

In the early morning we heard again, between sleeping and waking, the
musical cow-call. It echoed among the hills and over the lakes: there
were the tinkling of bells, the pattering of hoofs, the eager,
impatient sounds of a herd of cattle glad of morning freedom. It was
like a dream of Switzerland. And, hastening out, we found the dream but
vivified by the intense purity of the air surcharged with ozone, the
exquisite clearness of the outlines of the hills, the sparkling
brightness of the lakes in the valley, the freshness of glory and
beauty which overspread all like a world new made.

One of the great events of that day was a desperate fight between two
chameleons in a low oak-scrub on the hilltop. The little creatures