130 UNDER THE TREES, 



the music of its morning, and marvels that the 

 world no longer listens ; they have derided vener 

 able prejudices those ugly relics by which some 

 men keep in remembrance their barbarous an 

 cestry ; they have refused to follow flags wliose 

 battle were won or lost ages ago ; they have scorned 

 to compromise with untruth, to go with the crowd, to 

 acquiesce in evil &quot; for the good of the cause,&quot; to 

 speak when they ought to keep silent and to keep 

 silent when they ought to speak. Truly the lists of 

 sins charged to the account of Arden is a long one, 

 and were it not that the memory of the world, con 

 cerned chiefly with the things that make for its 

 comfort, is a short one, it would go ill with the 

 lovers of the Forest. More than once it has hap 

 pened that some offender has suffered so long a 

 banishment that he has taken permanent refuge in 

 Arden, and proved his citizenship there by some 

 act worthy of its glorious privileges. In the Forest 

 one comes constantly upon traces of those who, 

 like Dante and Milton, have found there a refuge 

 from the Philistinism of a world that often hates its 

 children in exact proportion to their ability to give 

 it light. For the most part, however, the outlaws 

 who frequent the Forest suffer no longer banish 

 ment than that which they impose on themselves. 

 They come and go at their own sweet will ; and 

 their coming, I suspect, is generally a matter of 

 their own choosing. The world still loves dark 

 ness more than light ; but it rarely nowadays falls 



