282 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



the wall have put on their virgin veils, and suddenly 

 they bow gracefully in the rising gust, tossing against a 

 sky where sunshine and blue seem to be chased down 

 from the zenith and back again from the horizon by the 

 cloudy cohorts of the shower. The rain comes with a 

 long, lateral swish, then straightens up to fall gently, till 

 the fields send forth a rich earthy fragrance, the incense 

 of the Spring. If it be the simple Nature- worship of a 

 primitive agricultural people to feel, in this beautiful 

 and benignant spectacle, this picture so soft and 

 virginal and fragrant, repeated through the years and 

 the centuries, the hand that loosed the floodgates of the 

 shower, to view it calmly with the faith of a child un- 

 troubled by too animated an inquiry into causes, then 

 let us be thankful that some instincts of our racial child- 

 hood still persist. Facts, facts, facts why must we be 

 forever going to Nature in search of facts! Let us go 

 to Nature now and then in search of the great, simple 

 mysteries. 



And thy paths drop fatness. 



They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness: 



And the hills are girded with joy. 



The pastures are clothed with flocks; 



The valleys also are covered over with corn; 



They shout for joy, they also sing. 



It is a lush midsummer day. The cattle are lying 

 beneath a great oak in the upland pasture. Across the 

 valley other hills go up with pastures flung like mantles 



