1 86 UNDER THE TREES. 



There are hours in this troubled life when the mists 

 are lifted and float away like faint clouds against 

 the blue, and the great world lies like a splendid 

 vision before us, and &quot; the immeasurable heavens 

 break open to the highest,&quot; and in a sudden rift of 

 human limitation the whole sublime order opens 

 before us, sings to us out of the fathomless depths 

 of its harmony, thrills us with a sudden sense of 

 God and of the undiscovered range and splendor 

 of our lives ; and when they have passed, these 

 hours remain with us in the afterglow of clearer 

 vision and deeper faith. Such hours are the pecu 

 liar joy of those who hold the key of the imagina 

 tion in their grasp and are able to unlock the gate 

 of dreams, or make themselves the companion of 

 the great explorers in the realms of truth and beauty. 

 These are the secret joys which people solitude and 

 make the quiet days one long draught of inspiration. 

 In such a mood our quest began and ended. We 

 skirted the beach ; we plunged deep into the re 

 cesses of the woods ; we stretched ourselves on the 

 broad expanse of greensward in the shade of the 

 great boughs ; we followed the rivulet to the hushed 

 and shadowy solitude where it issued from the moss- 

 grown rock ; wherever we bent our steps the song 

 of the sea followed us, and the day was calm and 

 cool as with its breadth and freshness. The island 

 had its own beauty ; the beauty of virgin forests 

 and untrodden paths, of a certain fragrant sweet 

 ness gathered in years of untroubled solitude, of a 



