saunter up toward the woods which climb the hill and 
stand strong and manfully upon the brow, coquetting 
with the south wind in the summer and defying the 
north winds in winter. And just this side the hill- 
top I stop and lie down in the shadows and listen 
—and hear the sea. On the hilltop I can sight 
the sea; below the hilltop I can hear the sea. How 
the branches toss here; not sedately, as when I saw 
them from far below by the spring, but wildly, and 
each tree after its own fashion! And how sad the 
voices of the wind are! One could weep for sorrow 
hearing the lonely winds washed through the tree- 
tops. In Kansas winds are hardly ever quiet, and 
often blow like a triumph, so that there is much 
singing of summer songs through the woods. 
Always, by daylight in particular, you may climb 
from the wooded valley to this wooded crest, and 
walk through the quiet of calm, where scarcely a 
leaf will nod, or a note of music be struck by the 
winds from the forest, till, as you approach the hill- 
top, the beat of distant waves on distant rocks is 
audible, and when at the top you are in a very fury 
of fighting surf, dashing white spray up the long 
rocks. I love this music and [| can not tell how 
dear it is, but hearing it I can dream and see 
visions, and climb God’s highest hills while this 
surf-music is in my ears and in my heart. 
But when trees are leafless in autumn and 
winter, and the wind rages and snarls like a hungry 
lion, and tears at the branches, as a lion at the 
bars which make his prison, then is the music 
218 
