7 A.M.
Then , suddenly , the sun shot up over the rim of the world , `` out of the gates of the day , '' a clear persimmon , gorgeous as a Chinese lantern , and the realm of faery warmed into reality , -- river and river banks , houses and little hummocky hills . I must walk now to keep warm . There is a young old woman in shabby corduroy footing it briskly to and fro , who may be going to take my toy steamer , -- tossing a mane of smoke and champing its bit at the upper wharf -- and I 'm going to speak to her . _ 7 A.M. Going up the River . _ She was taking the down boat , but she gave her valuable experience to me . She asked me for which island I was heading , and when I said I did n't know , -- that I meant to line them up and say , -- `` My-mother-told-me-to-take - _ this _ , -- '' she said , -- `` Oh , then do take Three Meadows ! '' She has been there all summer , and she thinks I can board at the same place -- with Angelique Larideau Gillespie , `` Mis ' Deac 'n Gillespie . ''