THE STORY OF A RAM 67 



would bring forth. Such a day it must have been 

 when Jason went voyaging to find the Golden 

 Fleece, when Helen of Troy set men's hearts 

 ablaze, and the heroes died and were gathered to 

 Olympus. 



Then as I watched, the scene changed. A great 

 lusty wind came whirling up about the trees, sighing 

 mightily, as though loath to bring destruction on 

 such dreams. At its breath my inland sea vanished, 

 leaving nothing on which a galleon with silken sails 

 could ride, and in its place was a great country of 

 narrow fir-crowned ridges, dark woods of pine, and 

 groves of leafless stems. 



Masses of mist came swirling down the hillsides 

 and through their folds loomed mighty unimagined 

 mountains, glittering and sparkling in the sun, to 

 vanish ere the eye had fully grasped their beauty. 

 Here to the south was one, its glories all exposed ; 

 there a northward slope lay covered in its winter's 

 shroud. In the hollow a fir wood stood, silhouetted 

 in spiky outline against the sea of mist ; above it, 

 vast timbered slopes and rocky white-laced cliffs 

 ranged themselves in awe-inspiring grandeur. Then 

 came a final whirl, the mist vanished, and, as the 

 mountain range behind stood dazzlingly forth in 

 terrifying majesty, I felt appalled at the immensity 

 of my own insignificance. 



Words were forming slowly in my brain, then in 

 a flash I was back beneath just such another sky on 

 the deck of a great war-ship, and I caught at the 



