

and revived the spent and withered fresh- 

 ness of the spirit. To hear that voice 

 seemed to me this morning the one con- 

 solation which the day offered. It called 

 me with cool, delicious tones that seemed 

 almost audible, and I braved the deadly 

 heat as the traveller urges his way over the 

 desert to the oasis that promises a draught 

 of life. As I passed along the broad aisle 

 of the village street, arched by the vener- 

 able trees of an older generation, I seemed 

 to be in dreamland ; no sound broke the 

 repose of midday, no footstep echoed far 

 or near ; the cattle stood motionless in the 

 fields beneath the sheltering branches. I 

 turned into the dusty country road, and 

 saw the vision of the great encircling hills, 

 remote, shadowless, and dreamlike, against 

 the white August sky. I sauntered slowly 

 on, pausing here and there at the foot of 

 some sturdy oak or wide-branched apple, 

 until I reached the little stream that comes 

 rippling down from the mountain glen. 

 A short walk across the fields under the 

 burning sun brought me into the shadow 



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