the bearings of a district three times as big as New York State.  Still I thought it impossible that I should have got so far out of the right track as not to be able to find the house before nightfall, which was now, however, rapidly approaching.  Indeed, the first shades of evening, strange as it may seem, gave this persuasion increased strength.  Home bred and gently nurtured as I was, my life before coming to Texas had been by no means one of adventure, and I was so used to sleep with a roof over my head, that when I 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