CHILDREN OF EARTH 209 



I believe ft was built in a dream, long ago lost in some 

 victory gained by the forest over men, and quite forgotten 

 until this artist thought it w^ould be a happy lair for a 

 faun. He has not shown us the faun — I wish he had; 

 he ought to know what it was like — but that gap is its 

 gateway out from the forest into the dew of the river 

 lawns. 



It induces an awful sense of the infinite variety of 

 human character to think of the love of earth first in this ^ 

 man and then in that cowman old. I wonder tolerance is 

 not deeper as well as wider than it is. 



