MYSTICAL PASTURES 241 



goes a subtle sub-consciousness which haakes you 

 alert to what goes on about you. Thus with the 

 piping up of the night wind you hear once more 

 the rapt voices of the great pines, the chanting of 

 those weird sages of the unknown. All the mys- 

 tical comes back to the pasture with the sound 

 and the deep song of the elder trees comes nearer 

 to finding words for you than it can at any other 

 time. I fancy that all the wee lives that sleep 

 and wake beneath it are part of its mystery, its 

 longing and its unfathomable promise. 



