FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 41 



which our thought is concerned. Have you 

 not ever been in a great factory, where the 

 whirr of the machinery and the din of the 

 hammers filled the air as though all bedlam 

 had broken loose, until it seemed, as the 

 common saying is, that you could not hear 

 yourself think, and yet, after a little time, 

 found that you could, when you would, dis 

 criminate a particular sound, now one, and 

 now another, apparently a solo with an 

 accompaniment ? Or in a well-balanced 

 chorus, have you not sought a certain voice 

 and followed it through the labyrinthine 

 harmony ? So with sight, but to a much 

 greater degree, and with much more impor 

 tant and very potent results. 



Tramping over the hills south of the vil 

 lage a few weeks ago, on a very sunny 

 morning, my attention was drawn to a 

 sloping pasture, over which, as is the case 

 with numerous others in the neighbourhood, 

 there were scattered many tiny cedars. As 

 I have said, the morning was sunny, and 

 these dense cedar bushes cast dark shadows 

 on the hillside. These shadows first caught 

 my eye, and 1 was suddenly conscious of a 

 field covered with dark spots, without any 

 immediate conception of the cause. My 

 reason being excited to activity, I at once 



