154 LAST 



unhappy life, and now Nature led him 

 gently down thepathof Time. Arecluse, 

 he was often called, an irresponsible 

 wanderer who had chosen to shun the 

 ways of his fellow-men. This because 

 he worshipped Nature's God through 

 Nature, rather than bow to the dictations 

 of some petty sect. To him everything 

 in Nature proclaimed another life, an- 

 other joy. He felt that every autumn 

 leaf would live again in some glad 

 spring-time. " There is a budding mor- 

 row in midnight," he used to say; and 

 the changing seasons, the flowering of 

 plants, the coming of the summer birds 

 were his saints' days, wherein his soul 

 found its peace and abiding comfort. 



Yet he was not now alone, for sudden- 

 ly his hand, which he had let fall over 

 the side of the bench upon which he sat, 

 moved involuntarily. Yarrow, his old 

 sheep-dog, had touched it with her cold 

 nose, and, looking up into her master's 



