IV. 



MORNING TROUT; EVENING TALK. 



EARLY next morning I was out to breathe the air. 

 There had been a shower in the night, but the sun rose 

 clear, and I saw the first rays that found their way down 

 into the valley. The drops of last night's moisture yet 

 remaining on the leaves sparkled and shone like dia- 

 monds. There was a flock of young goslings in the pond 

 when I approached it, and they seemed to enjoy the sun- 

 shine keenly. I fancy they had never seen it but two or 

 three mornings before, and it might well astonish them. 



Think of it ! Suppose, my friend, that you had never 

 seen the sunshine but twice or three times in your life, 

 with what splendor would the great day king roll up the 

 eastern sky for you; with what glory would the heavens 

 be filled ; with what unutterable magnificence would he 

 go down the west; and in what wondering awe, and si- 

 lent, voiceless astonishment would he leave you in the 

 still and solemn twilight ! Is the sunshine any less grand, 

 or the sun's pathway any less glorious, or the day's de- 

 cline any less stately, in fact, than it would be if you had 

 been born in a cavern, and had never seen the daylight 

 till to-day? 



Why, then, is it so commonplace ? 



" Because you are used to it, and have seen enough of 

 it." Is that your answer ? 



