saw it getting dusk I felt certain I could not be far
from the house. The idea fixed itself so strongly in my mind, that I
involuntarily spurred my mustang, and trotted on, peering out through the
now fast-gathering gloom, in expectation of seeing a light. Several times
I fancied I heard the barking of the dogs, the cattle lowing, or the merry
laugh of the children.

"Hurrah! there is the house at last--I see the lights in the parlour
windows."

I urged my horse on, but when I came near the house, it proved to be an
island of trees. What I had taken for candles were fire-flies, that now
issued in swarms from out of the darkness of the islands, and spread
themselves over the prairie, darting about in every direction, their small
blue flames literally lighting up the plain, and making it appear as if I
were surrounded by a sea of Bengal fire. It is impossible to conceive
anything more bewildering than such a ride as mine, on a warm March night,
through the interminable, never varying prairie. Overhead the deep blue
firmament, with its hosts of bright stars; at my feet, and all around, an
ocean of magical light, myriads of fire-flies floating upon the soft still
air. To me it was like a scene of enchantment. I could distinguish every
blade of grass, every flower, each leaf on the trees, but all in a strange
unnatural sort of light, and in altered colours. Tuberoses and asters,
prairie roses and geraniums, dahlias and vine branches, began to wave and
move, to range themselves in ranks and rows. The whole vegetable world
around me seemed to dance, as the swarms of living lights passed over it.

Suddenly out of the sea of fire sounded a loud and long-drawn note. I
stopped, listened, and gazed around me. It was not repeated, and I rode on.
Again the same sound, but this time the cadence was sad and plaintive.
Again I made a halt, and listened. It was repeated a third time in a yet
more melancholy tone, and I recognised it as the cry of a whip-poor-will.
Presently it was answered from a neighbouring island by a Katydid. My
heart leaped for joy at hearing the note of this bird, the native minstrel
of my own dear Maryland. In an instant the house where I was born stood
before the eyesight of my imagination. There were the negro huts, the
garden, the plantation, every thing exactly as I had left it. So powerful
was the illusion, that I gave my horse the spur, persuaded that my
father's house lay before me. The island, too, I took