THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 99 



western welkin resembles nothing so much as the 

 tumultuous red ravings of a lunatic. 



And yet — after such near-vituperation we, being 

 only human, turn aside because it is all too gor- 

 geous, too beautiful. It would appear that the re- 

 ceptiveness of the mortal mind has its limits, that 

 it can comfortably absorb just so much and no more. 

 Or, if this be not so, why the inexpressible yearning, 

 the vain half conscious reaching after these "trail- 

 ing clouds of glory" long left behind, the mournful- 

 ness, the restlessness, call it what you will, when 

 Nature overcrowds her scenes? 





0236,: 



