CHAPTER XVII. 



A SUMMER NOON. 



THE stir of the morning has given place to a 

 silence broken only by the shrill whir of the locust. 

 The distant shore lines that ran clear and white 

 against the low background of green have become 

 dim and indistinct ; all things are touched by a 

 soft haze which changes the sentiment of the land 

 scape from movement to repose, from swift and 

 multitudinous activity to the hush of sleep. The 

 intense blue of the morning sky is dimmed and the 

 great masses of trees are motionless. The distant 

 harvest fields where the rhythmic lines of the 

 mowers have moved alert and harmonious through 

 the morning hours are deserted. On earth silence 

 and rest, and in the great arch of the sky a sea of 

 light so full and splendid that it seems almost to 

 dim the fiery effluence of the sun itself. In such 

 an hour one stretches himself under the trees, and 

 in a moment the spell is on him, and he cares 

 neither to think nor act ; he rejoices to lose him 

 self in the universal repose with which Nature 

 refreshes herself. The heat of the day is at its 

 height, but for an hour the burden slips from the 



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