90 Musings by Camp-Fire and Wayside 



There came a lull in the voices of Nature, 

 excepting only the breathing of the pines, and so I 

 looked steadily up and listened, scarcely breathing 

 myself. Yes, there it was, something like a very 

 distant chime of bells, only softer than any expanse 

 of water could make sound which floated across it, 

 soft, dreamy, far-away. It was not like a distant 

 bell-chime in this, that the bell starts off with its 

 largest volume of sound, and then diminishes; while 

 this music of the celestial spheres rose softly and 

 fell away softly, the tones sometimes simultaneous 

 and blending, and sometimes melodiously rising and 

 falling. 



How long \ listened and heard I do not know, 

 for the music passed into a vision, and I was talk- 

 ing to my father and mother. Both of them were 

 sitting near each other and talking to me. The 

 vision also passed, and there was a glow over the 

 water and over the land, and I turned to the north- 

 east to see that the sky was all ashes of roses above, 

 deepening in color down to the horizon. 



Yes, I know as well as anybody else that one can 

 hear anything he listens for. I have waited in the 

 woods for a coming wagon, and could plainly hear 

 the rattle of its wheels before it had started. I 

 have heard the unmistakable plash of a deer's feet 

 in the water when no deer was near. I have heard 

 the plantigrade tread of a bear, and turned with a 

 throbbing heart to catch a shot when no bear was 

 near. I have heard my name called, and started to 



