IN THE FOREST OF ARDEN. n 9 



and self-knowledge had vanished. To get out of 

 the uproar and confusion of things, I had often 

 fancied, would be like exchanging the dusty mid 

 summer road for the shade of the woods where the 

 brook calms the day with its pellucid note of effort 

 less flow, and the hours hide themselves from the 

 glances of the sun. In the forest of Arden I felt 

 sure I should find the repose, the quietude, the 

 freedom of thought, which would permit me to 

 know myself. There, too, I suspected Nature had 

 certain surprises for me ; certain secrets which she 

 has been holding back for the fortunate hour when 

 her spell would be supreme and unbroken. I even 

 hoped that I might come unaware upon that 

 ancient and perennial movement of life upon which 

 I seemed always to happen the very second after it 

 had been suspended ; that I might hear the note of 

 the hermit thrush breaking out of the heart of the 

 forest ; the soulful melody of the nightingale, 

 pathetic with unappeasable sorrow. In the Forest 

 of Arden, too, there were unspoiled men and 

 women, as indifferent to the fashion of the world 

 and the folly of the hour as the stars to the impal 

 pable mist of the clouds ; men and women who 

 spoke the truth, and saw the fact, and lived the 

 right ; to whom love and faith and high hopes were 

 more real than the crowns of which they had been 

 despoiled and the kingdoms from which they had 

 been rejected. All this I had dreamed, and I 

 know not how many other brave and beautiful 



