Tite bowed, and thanked his benefactor again. He then proceeded to his
duty, as the ship headed for Bahia, with a fair wind.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE COMING WINTER, AND A MERRY-MAKING.


November was come now. The day I write of was damp and cheerless. Grey,
vapory clouds swept over the Tappan Zee, and a sad, sighing wind tossed
it into crests. A drizzling rain fell over Nyack, and the little town
looked as if it had just taken a bath and gone to sleep for the night.
The hills wore a cold and bleak look, the foliage had lost its bright,
golden tints, and now looked faded and colorless. The leaves, too, were
falling, and the naked trees seemed weeping and cold. Sheep browsed on
the hill-sides, or nibbled coldly under the branches of sheltering
trees. In the wet, dripping barn-yard cattle were seen huddled together
under a lee, now seeking warmth in the fresh shocks, now proclaiming
their troubles in subdued lowing.

The very landscape seemed weeping and melancholy. Even the summer birds,
whose songs give such a charm to the woods, were gone. And there was the
loon upon the lake gabbling his welcome to the approaching winter. The
rain, too, had filled the brooks, and their waters were gurgling down
deep, shadowy dells, mingling their touching music with the sad, sighing
wind. There were pleasant memories entwined in that departing summer;