beautiful, nor had any man--not the monk of Eynsham in that
vision when he heard the Easter bells on the holy Saturday
evening, and described the sound as "a ringing of a marvellous
sweetness, as if all the bells in the world, or whatsoever is
of sounding, had been rung together at once."

Here, then, I had found and had become the possessor of
something priceless, since in that moment of surprise and
delight the mysterious beautiful sound, with the whole scene,
had registered an impression which would outlast all others
received at that place, where I had viewed all things with but
languid interest. Had it not come as a complete surprise, the
emotion experienced and the resultant mental image would not
have been so vivid; as it is, I can mentally stand in that
valley when I will, seeing that green-wooded hill in front of
me and listen to that unearthly music.

Naturally, after quitting the spot, I looked at the first
opportunity into a guide-book of the district, only to find
that it contained not one word about those wonderful illusive
sounds! The book-makers had not done their work well, since
it is a pleasure after having discovered something delightful
for ourselves to know how others have been affected by it and
how they describe it.

Of many other incidents of the kind I will, in this chapter,
relate one more, which has a historical or legendary interest.
I was staying with the companion of my walks at a village in
Southern England in a district new to us. We arrived on a
Saturday, and next morning after breakfast went out for a long