The return--Narrow escape--A murderous attempt, which fails--And a
discovery.


All nature was joyous and brilliant, and bright and beautiful.
Morning was still very young--about an hour old. Sounds of the most
cheerful, light-hearted character floated over the waters and echoed
through the woods, as birds and beasts hurried to and fro with all
the bustling energy that betokened preparation and search for
breakfast. Fish leaped in the pools with a rapidity that brought
forcibly to mind that wise saying, "The more hurry, the less speed;"
for they appeared constantly to miss their mark, although they jumped
twice their own length out of the water in the effort.

Ducks and geese sprang from their liquid beds with an amazing amount
of unnecessary sputter, as if they had awakened to the sudden
consciousness of being late for breakfast, then alighted in the water
again with a _squash,_ on finding (probably) that it was too early
for that meal, but, observing other flocks passing and re-passing on
noisy wing, took to flight again, unable, apparently, to restrain
their feelings of delight at the freshness of the morning air, the
brightness of the rising sun, and the sweet perfume of the dewy
verdure, as the mists cleared away over the tree-tops and lost
themselves in the blue sky. Everything seemed instinct not only with
life, but with a large amount of superabundant energy. Earth, air,
sky, animal, vegetable, and mineral, solid and liquid, all were
either actually in a state of lively exulting motion, or had a
peculiarly sprightly look about them, as if nature had just burst out
of prison _en masse_, and gone raving mad with joy.