the ear. Only those who live in the open air and watch the fields and
sea from hour to hour and day to day know what they are and what they
mean. The chance visitor, or he who looks now and then, never
understands them. While I have lain here, the clouds have risen, have
become more aerial, and more suffused with light; the horizon has become
better defined, and the yellow shingle beach is visible to its extremest
point clasping the bay in its arms. The bay itself is the tenderest
blue-green, and on the rolling plain which borders it lies intense
sunlight chequered with moving shadows which wander eastwards. The wind
has shifted a trifle, and comes straight up the Channel from the
illimitable ocean.



AUGUST



A few days ago it was very hot. Afterwards we had a thunderstorm,
followed by rain from the south-west. The wind has veered a point
northerly, and the barometer is rising. This morning at half-past five
the valley below was filled with white mist. Above it the tops of the
trees on the highest points emerged sharply distinct. It was
motionless, but gradually melted before the ascending sun, recalling
Plutarch's "scenes in the beautiful temple of the world which the gods
order at their own festivals, when we are initiated into their own
mysteries." Here was a divine mystery, with initiation for those who
cared for it. No priests were waiting, no ritual was necessary, the
service was simple--solitary adoration and perfect silence.