ALONG THE STREAMSIDE. 183 
the glint of sunlight on the Holly, the flash of 
water in the running brook. 
It has often been noticed that there isa strange 
brilliance in dying glory. Why is it that the sun 
oftentimes shines with such resplendent beauty 
just before it sets? How beautiful is waning 
sunlight in the woods! A band of sunlight, as 
we follow our path, has fallen across our way. 
The rays, on entering, bathe with an effulgence 
as of molten silver, the Beech foliage on our 
right, heighten the glint of stunted Holly on the 
ground below, deepen the golden gloss of butter- 
cups, and the tender blush of daisy tips on the 
greensward, and give enjoyment to ten thousand 
insects desporting joyously in the golden beams. 
We meet no wanderer along this streamside 
woodland ramble. Nature is here alone, and we 
alone intruding. Yet from Nature’s beauty we 
lift our thoughts to Nature’s God who made the 
world so fair. 
