New Walks in Old Ways 



Near that little bridge the road 

 passes underneath a groined arch, 

 formed by tall, leaning trees meeting 

 overhead, that cannot be duplicated 

 in any cathedral in Europe. Yet I will 

 venture to say that not one in a thou- 

 sand of all those who annually speed 

 through this natural sanctuary ever 

 observe this pointed Gothic canopy. 

 It is not so high as St. Peter's, nor so 

 wide as Notre Dame. There is no 

 stained glass, for there is no need of 

 such embellishment just green leaves 

 and interlacing branches through which 

 you get glimpses of a ceiling sky-blue 

 by day, and black, studded with twink- 

 ling lights at night. 



Men try to imitate such things, using 

 stone and paint and all the resources 

 of their feeble art, and if they succeed 

 to a certain degree, as at Milan or 

 Canterbury, people flock from all over 

 the world to see what at best can be 

 beaten hollow in any virgin forest. 

 The fact is that these temples exist in 



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