FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 301 



ing hand the old gray rocks that have so 

 kindly lent themselves to build the cottage 

 walls, and gazing out upon the beautiful 

 world, which is already so old, and yet so 

 new that I look upon it each day with a 

 fresh surprise, it seems to me that I may 

 fairly say, The lines are fallen unto me 

 in pleasant places ; yea I have a goodly 

 heritage.&quot; 



A year has slipped away into the silences, 

 gone to lie in that great mausoleum where 

 the vanished years shall rest for aye. 



&quot; Sergeant, call the roll.&quot; 



All present, or accounted for. Our high 

 ways and our byways are bright again with 

 Tarn o Shanter and scarf and ribbon ; the 

 light-hearted equestriennes chase each other 

 over the hills ; merry voices break musi 

 cally upon the evening air ; the blinds are 

 thrown back, the cobwebs brushed away, 

 the pleasant halls of learning are reopened. 

 From Holland and the Swiss lakes and 

 mountains, and from the green lanes of 

 Merrie England come these, those from 

 neighbouring city or town, or from the 

 boundless West, where Nature seems to do 

 everything with a lavish hand, and upon a 

 mighty scale in keeping with the magnitude 

 of that great empire. 



