22 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



golden glory. I didn't know quite what to 

 make of it. Did you ever have your senses lit- 

 erally stunned by a flood of delights? It 

 needed a little time to understand that this was 

 the sunrise breaking in upon us. We stood 

 together by the window, looking out. Before 

 us lay a picture that just stubbornly won't be 

 put into words. There were tree-arched roads 

 and the white houses of the town. Beyond 

 we could see the somber-toned buildings of the 

 university. Below us, through a winding hol- 

 low, ran a shining river; and then again be- 

 yond, rolling miles on miles into the mist-sof- 

 tened distance, spread the billowy hills of the 

 Boston Range, flushed with spring. Over all, 

 mellowing it, suffusing it, melting it into liquid 

 beauty, was that wonderful flooding light. 

 "The light that never was on sea or land" 

 do you remember that? That's what it made 

 me think of. 



We walked the streets for an hour after 

 breakfast, not saying much, but looking, look- 

 ing. Wherever we looked, through every open 

 space, there lay our hills, misty blue and misty 

 green and misty gold wonderful, wonderful! 

 We loved them. I think we both felt, right 



