CHAPTER XIX. 



THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 



FOR days past there have been intangible hints 

 of change in earth and air ; the birds are silent, 

 and the universal strident note of insect life makes 

 more musical to memory the melodies of the earlier 

 season. The sense of overflowing vitality which 

 pervaded all things a few days ago, when the tide 

 was at the flood, has gone ; the tide has turned, 

 and already one sees the receding movement of the 

 ebb. Through all the vanished months of flower 

 and song, one s thought has traveled fast upon the 

 advancing march of summer, trying to keep pace 

 with it as it pushed its fragrant conquest north 

 ward ; to-day there is a brief interval of pause be 

 fore the same thought, following the sunshine, turns 

 south again, and seeks the tropics. A little later 

 the spell of an indescribable peace will rest upon 

 the earth, but a peace that will be but a brief 

 truce between elements soon to close in struggle 

 again. To-day, however, one feels the repose of a 

 finished work before the first mellow touch of 

 decay has come. The full, rich foliage still shel 

 ters the paths upon which the leaves have not yet 

 fallen ; the meadows are green ; the skies soft 

 103 



