“I see soft, slow clouds oozing across the blue, me big black chickens hanging up there, and a great feather softly sliding down.  I see mighty trees, swinging vines, bright flowers, and always masses of the wild roses, with the wild rose face of me Ladybird looking through.  I see the swale rocking, smell the sweetness of the blooming things, and the damp, mucky odor of the swamp; and I hear me birds sing, me squirrels bark, the rattlers hiss, and the step of Wessner or Black Jack coming; and whether it’s the things that I loved or the things that I feared, it’s all a part of the day.

“Me heart’s all me Swamp Angel’s, and me love is all hers, and I have her and the swamp so confused in me mind I never can be separating them.  When I look at her, I see blue sky, the sun rifting through the leaves and pink and red flowers; and when I look at the Limberlost I see a pink face with blue eyes, gold hair, and red lips, and, it’s the truth, sir, they’re mixed till they’re one to me!

“I’m afraid it will be hurting some, but I have the feeing that I can be making my dear people understand, so that they will be willing to let me come back home.  Send Lady O’More to put these flowers God made in the place of these glass-house ilegancies, and please be cutting the string of this little package the Angel’s sent me.”

As Freckles held up the package, the lights of the Limberlost flashed from the emerald on his finger.  On the cover was printed:  “To the Limberlost Guard!” Under it was a big, crisp, iridescent black feather.