CHAPTER X. 



THE EARLIEST INSIGHTS. 



THE heaven which lies about us in our infancy, 

 like every other heaven of which men have dreamed, 

 lies mainly within us ; it is the heaven of fresh in 

 stincts, of unworn receptivity, of expanding intelli 

 gence. It is a heaven of faith and wonder, as 

 every heaven must be ; it is a heaven of recurring 

 miracle, of renewing freshness, of deepening in 

 terest. Into such a heaven every child is born who 

 brings into life that leaven of the imagination which 

 later on is to penetrate the universe and make it 

 one in the sublime order of truth and of beauty. 



As I write, the merry shouts of children come 

 through the open window, and seem part of that 

 universal sound in which the stir of leaves, the 

 faint, far song of birds, and the note of insect life 

 are blended. When I came across the field a few 

 moments ago, a voice called me from under the 

 apple trees, and a little figure, with a flush of joy on 

 her face and the fadeless light of love in her eyes, 

 came running with uneven pace to meet me. How 

 slight and frail was that vision of childhood to the 

 thought which saw the awful forces of nature at 

 work, or rather at play, about her ! And yet how 

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