transfigured. The clock in the tower struck seven, and the strokes
of the ancient bell sounded like a wedding chime. The air sang
with the thrilling treble of the song-birds, with the silvery music
of the plashing water and the softer harmony of the leaves stirred
by the fresh morning wind. There was a smell of new-mown hay from
the distant meadows, and of blooming roses from the beds below,
wafted up together to my window. I stood in the pure sunshine and
drank the air and all the sounds and the odors that were in it; and
I looked down at my garden and said: "It is Paradise, after all."
I think the men of old were right when they called heaven a garden,
and Eden a garden inhabited by one man and one woman, the Earthly
Paradise.

I turned away, wondering what had become of the gloomy memories I
had always associated with my home. I tried to recall the
impression of my nurse's horrible prophecy before the death of my
parents--an impression which hitherto had been vivid enough. I
tried to remember my old self, my dejection, my listlessness, my
bad luck, my petty disappointments. I endeavored to force myself
to think as I used to think, if only to satisfy myself that I had
not lost my individuality. But I succeeded in none of these
efforts. I was a different man, a changed being, incapable of
sorrow, of ill luck, or of sadness. My life had been a dream, not
evil, but infinitely gloomy and hopeless. It was now a reality,
full of hope, gladness, and all manner of good. My home had been
like a tomb; to-day it was Paradise. My heart had been as though
it had not existed; to-day it beat with strength and youth and the
certainty of realized happiness. I reveled in the beauty of the
world, and called loveliness out of the future to enjoy it before
time should bring it to me, as a traveler in the plains looks up to