were no remains of antiquity, no links with the past, the
feeling would be very much more poignant, and in some scenes
and moods would be like that sense of desolation which assails
us at the thought of the heartless voids and immensities of
the universe.

He recognizes that he is in a world on which we have but
recently entered, and in which our position is not yet
assured.

Here, standing on this mound, as on other occasions past
counting, I recognize and appreciate the enormous difference
which human associations make in the effect produced on us by
visible nature. In this silent solitary place, with the
walled field which was once Calleva Atrebatum at my feet, I
yet have a sense of satisfaction, of security, never felt in a
land that had no historic past. The knowledge that my
individual life is but a span, a breath; that in a little
while I too must wither and mingle like one of those fallen
yellow leaves with the mould, does not grieve me. I know it
and yet disbelieve it; for am I not here alive, where men have
inhabited for thousands of years, feeling what I now feel
--their oneness with everlasting nature and the undying human
family? The very soil and wet carpet of moss on which their
feet were set, the standing trees and leaves, green or yellow,
the rain-drops, the air they breathed, the sunshine in their
eyes and hearts, was part of them, not a garment, but of their
very substance and spirit. Feeling this, death becomes an
illusion; and the illusion that the continuous life of the
species (its immortality) and the individual life are one and