116 NATURE AND WOODCRAFT. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE HAUNT OF THE ANCHORITE. 



We are lying on the confines of a wood where 

 we have lain for an hour. Such a multitude 

 of sights and sounds are around that the 

 eye and ear seem hardly capable of absorbing 

 them. And yet there are no blurred impres- 

 sions, no confusion of sounds. The eye faith- 

 fully produces each picture, the ear each soft 

 swish of the pines. Is the beauty of this leafy 

 woodland way in itself, or only in the eye of 

 the observer ? 



Are these sweet sounds of the early season, 

 And these fair sights of its early days ? 



Are they only sweet when we fondly listen, 

 And only fair when we fondly gaze ? 



The poets have told us that what we call 

 nature is but our own conceit of what we 

 see ; and doubtless they are right. We find 



