PICTURE AND SONG 153 



orchard, I suppose ; and even now, although 

 there was hardly so much as a stump left to teU 

 the tale, it remained in its own way a paradise 

 of beauty. From end to end the five or six 

 sandy acres were thickly overgrown with Drum- 

 mond's phlox, all in fullest bloom, a rosy wilder- 

 ness. 



It was a pretty show. We exclaimed over it, 

 and gathered handfuls of the lovely flowers, but 

 as we rowed homeward we were favored with a 

 spectacle to which it would be a profanation to 

 apply such epithets. The afternoon, which began 

 doubtfully, had turned out a marvel of perfec- 

 tion. The wind had gone down, the river was 

 like glass, and the level rays of the sun touched 

 all the shore woods to an almost unearthly 

 beauty. And withal, the sky was full of the 

 softest, most exquisitely shaded, finely broken 

 clouds. It was an hour such as comes once and 

 is never repeated. In my mind the memory of 

 it has already taken its place beside the memory 

 of a sunset seen many years ago from a Massa^- 

 chusetts mountain-top. These are some of the 

 " sensations " of which I spoke. They are the 

 sufficient rewards of travel, though now and 

 then, the Fates favoring, we may have them at 

 home also, without money and without price. 



The next day, or the next but one, I strolled 



