worlds nearer to the sun. For they arrive no one knows how. A
maiden, walking alone, hears a cry: for even there a cry is the
first utterance; and searching about, she findeth, under an
overhanging rock, or within a clump of bushes, or, it may be,
betwixt gray stones on the side of a hill, or in any other
sheltered and unexpected spot, a little child. This she taketh
tenderly, and beareth home with joy, calling out, "Mother,
mother"--if so be that her mother lives--"I have got a baby--I
have found a child!" All the household gathers round to
see;--"WHERE IS IT? WHAT IS IT LIKE? WHERE DID YOU FIND IT?"
and such-like questions, abounding. And thereupon she relates
the whole story of the discovery; for by the circumstances, such
as season of the year, time of the day, condition of the air, and
such like, and, especially, the peculiar and never-repeated
aspect of the heavens and earth at the time, and the nature of
the place of shelter wherein it is found, is determined, or at
least indicated, the nature of the child thus discovered.
Therefore, at certain seasons, and in certain states of the
weather, according, in part, to their own fancy, the young women
go out to look for children. They generally avoid seeking them,
though they cannot help sometimes finding them, in places and
with circumstances uncongenial to their peculiar likings. But no
sooner is a child found, than its claim for protection and
nurture obliterates all feeling of choice in the matter.
Chiefly, however, in the season of summer, which lasts so long,
coming as it does after such long intervals; and mostly in the
warm evenings, about the middle of twilight; and principally in
the woods and along the river banks, do the maidens go looking
for children just as children look for flowers. And ever as the
child grows, yea, more and more as he advances in years, will his