ters be!
The tide is in his ecstasy.
The tide is at his highest height:
And it is night.

And now from the Vast of the Lord will the waters of sleep
Roll in on the souls of men,
But who will reveal to our waking ken
The forms that swim and the shapes that creep
Under the waters of sleep?
And I would I could know what swimmeth below when the tide comes in
On the length and the breadth of the marvellous marshes of Glynn.

1878.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] By permission of Mrs. Lanier, and Charles Scribner's Sons, N. Y.

[40] By permission of Mrs. Lanier, and Charles Scribner's Sons, N. Y.

JAMES LANE ALLEN.

JAMES LANE ALLEN is one of the best and most successful of the living
writers of the South. He is a Kentuckian, and his sketches and stories
have so far all dealt with life in his native State.

WORKS.

Life in the Blue Grass.
White Cowl.
Flute and Violin, and other stories.
John Gray.
Sister Dolorosa.
A Kentucky Cardinal (1895).

SPORTS OF A KENTUCKY SCHOOL IN 1795.

(_From John Gray, a Kentucky Tale of the Olden Time._[41])

A strange mixture of human life there was in Gray's school. There were
the native little Kentuckians, born in the wilderness--the first wild,
hardy generation of new people; and there were the little folk from
Virginia, from Tennessee, from North Carolina, and from Pennsylvania
and other sources, huddled together, some rude, some gentle, and
starting out now to be formed into the men and women of the Kentucky
that was to be.

They had their strange, sad, heroic games and pastimes, those
primitive children under his guidance. Two little girls would be
driving the cows home about dusk; three little boys would play Indian
and capture them and carry them off; the husbands of the little girls
would form a party to the rescue; the prisoners would drop pieces of
their dresses along the way; and then at a certain point of the
woods--it being the dead of night now, and the little girls being
bound to a tree, and the Indians having fallen asleep beside their
smouldering camp-fires--the rescuers would rush in, and there would be
whoops and shrieks, and the taking of scalps, and a happy return.

Or, some settlement would be shut up in a fort besieged. Days would
pass. The only water was a spring outside the walls, and around this
the enemy skulked in the corn and gr