AN APRIL DA Y. 5 



point to point, peering into the depths of the 

 woods and watching stealthily where the torrent 

 breaks from its dungeon in the hills, and leaps, 

 mad with joy, in the new-found liberty of light and 

 motion ; but not a flutter of her garment betrays to 

 the keenest eye the Presence which is the soul of 

 all this visible, moving scene. 



And now there is a subtle change in the air , 

 premonitions of death begin to thrust themselves 

 in the midst of the revelry ; there is a brief hush, a 

 sudden glow of splendor, and, lo ! the pageant is 

 seemingly at an end. The crowd linger a little, 

 gather a few faded leaves, and depart ; a few 

 a very few wait. Now that the throngs have van 

 ished and the revelry is over, they are conscious of 

 a deep, pervading quietude ; these are days when 

 something touches them with a sense of near and 

 sacred fellowship ; Nature has cast aside her gifts, 

 and given herself. For there is a something behind 

 the glory of summer, and they only have entered 

 into real communion with Nature who have learned 

 to separate her from all her miracles of power and 

 beauty ; who have come to understand that she 

 lives apart from the singing of birds, the blossom 

 ing of flowers, and the waving of branches heavy 

 with leaves. 



The Greeks saw some things clearly without 

 seeing them deeply ; they interpreted through a 

 beautiful mythology all the external phenomena of 

 Nature. The people of the farther East, on the 



