THE TWIN ISLANDS. 189 



My eventful day liad drawn to a close, but my labors 

 did not end with the gloaming. It was no light task, 

 with my treasures mined from a neighbor's dark attic, 

 and an arm -load of meadow bloom, to wend my way 

 homeward through tangled grass still dripping with the 

 recent rain. An occasional stumble was not submitted 

 to with the best of grace. But the climax was to come. 

 I had thought that my exposure to a storm would have 

 excited sympathy, and my heaped -up treasures arouse 

 the interest of all who saw them. Alas! straightway 

 on entering the house I was reminded that I had not 

 washed my hands. 



Washed my hands ! For what then had I been gath- 

 ering the glory of the marshes, if not that their essence 

 might cling to me ? Washed my hands ! No, and to 

 free them from such honorable soiling never will. I 

 would that my heart was as stained as my hands ; that 

 the virtues of waste-land pierced me through and through. 

 All that is lovable in this world has not yet been gar- 

 nered. 



