DRIFTWOOD AND DREAMS 197 



their tired heads eagerly. The Words worthi an creed is 

 truest at that hour : 



"To her fair works did nature link 

 The human soul that through me ran," 



and no scoffer alive but, feeling the gracious mood of 

 poet and the charm of eventide, would say : 



"Through primrose tufts in that green bower 



The periwinkle trailed its wreaths ; 

 And 't is my faith that every flower 

 Enjoys the air it breathes." 



"The breezy call of incense-breathing morn," the dewy 

 evening these are the divine hours. All things seemed 

 to have declared a truce between battles. By the very 

 nature of the earthly scheme, the struggle for existence is 

 a battlefield in which the fight is a furious one. The 

 Happy Valley of Rasselas has never been found but in 

 dreams. 



The free-lance career of toads upon insects is matched 

 by the conduct of the creeping lizards domesticated in the 

 rock pile. They are the scourge of creepers and winged in 

 their domain. Innocent sunning at midday is only a ruse. 

 They are spying out the playgrounds of flies and ants. 



The spiders are bandits of the first order. It would 

 take a lifetime to cultivate an intimacy with the tribes at 



