CHAPTER XVIII. 



EVENTIDE. 



WHEN the shadows lengthen and the landscape 

 becomes indistinct, the common life of men seems 

 to touch the life of Nature most closely and sym 

 pathetically. The work of the day is accomplished ; 

 the sense of things to be done loses its painful ten 

 sion ; the mind, freed from the cares which en 

 grossed it, opens unconsciously to the sights and 

 sounds of the quiet hour. The fields are given 

 over to silence and the gathering darkness ; the 

 roads cease to be thoroughfares of toil ; and over 

 all things the peace of night settles like an un 

 spoken benediction. To the most preoccupied 

 there comes a consciousness that the world has 

 changed, and that, while the old framework re 

 mains intact, a strange and transforming beauty 

 has touched and spiritualized it. At eventide one 

 feels the soul of Nature as at no other hour. Her 

 labors have ceased, her birds are silent ; she, too, 

 rests, and in ceasing to do for us she gives us her 

 self. One by one the silvery points of light break 

 out of the darkness overhead, and the faithful stars 

 look down on the little earth they have watched 

 98 



