114 FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 



XXI. 



Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 

 The bridal of the earth and sky. 



IT has been absolutely superb. The long 

 storm with which the drought closed has 

 finally passed away, and it has left us with 

 the atmosphere washed clean, but with great 

 floating masses of cloud, lagging, not by any 

 means superfluous, upon the stage, but so 

 as to present to us every variety of beauty 

 that we could desire. 



I have spent nearly the whole day, sit 

 ting in the shade of my own ash tree, read 

 ing and receiving sundry callers, and listen 

 ing to the birds of all sorts and sizes, as 

 merry as grigs ; and anon looking across 

 the field of the cloth of gold made by the 

 buttercups, upon the valley and the distant 

 hills, where the shadows of the slowly 

 moving clouds produced an ever- vary ing 

 play of light that was infinitely beautiful. 



And I have been travelling in delightful 

 familiar paths, and steeping myself in the 



