which lay behind it, struck into me with a poignancy that stopped me
where I stood. Was I, then, all wrong about the world? I actually had a
kind of fear lest when I should look up again I should find the earth
grown wan and bleak and unfriendly, so that I should no longer desire
it.

"Look at the world!" I said aloud.

And with that I suddenly looked all around me and it is a strange, deep
thing, as I have thought of it since, how the world came back upon me
with a kind of infinite, calm assurance, as beautiful as ever it was.
There were the hills and the fields and the great still trees--and the
open sky above. And even as I looked down the road and saw my sardonic
old friend plodding through the snow--his very back frowning--I had a
sense that he belonged in the picture, too--and couldn't help himself.
That he even had a kind of grace, and gave a human touch to that wintry
scene! He had probably said a great deal more than he meant!

_Look at the world_!

Well, look at it.



CHAPTER VIII


A GOOD APPLE

"I am made immortal by apprehending my possession of incorruptible