noon
how beautiful were the scenes presented to his vision ! Everything in this world is relative . That which is hideous at one time is lovely at another . In the night the evening , or at the grey dawn , the swamp was indeed dismal in the extreme ; but when the morning advanced towards noon all that was changed , as if magically , by the action of the sun . Black , repulsive waters reflected patches of the bright blue sky , and every leaf , and spray , and parasite , and tendril , that grew in the world above was faithfully mirrored in the world below . Vistas of gnarled roots and graceful stems and drooping boughs were seen on right and left , before and behind , extending as if into infinite space , while innumerable insects , engaged in the business of their brief existence , were filling the region with miniature melodies . But Richard Rosco saw it not .