since nature appeared immeasurably more vivid on account of his brighter
senses; therefore his love of life and happiness in life greatly
surpassed theirs. Annually the trees shed their leaves, the flowers
perished, the birds flew away to some distant country beyond the
horizon, and the sun grew pale and cold in the sky; but the bright
impression all things made on him gave him a joy that was perennial. The
briony, woodbine, and honeysuckle he had looked on withered in the
hedges, but their presentments flourished untouched by frost, as if his
warmth sustained and gave them perpetual life; in that inner magical
world of memory the birds still twittered and warbled, each after its
kind, and the sun shone everlastingly. But he was living in a fool's
paradise, as he discovered by-and-by, when a boy who had been his
playmate began to grow thin and pale, and at last fell sick and died. He
crept near and watched his dead companion lying motionless, unbreathing,
with a face that was like white clay; and then, more horrible still, he
saw him taken out and put into a grave, and the heavy, cold soil cast
over him.

What did this strange and terrible thing mean? Now for the first time he
was told that life is ours only for a season; that we also, like the
leaves and flowers, flourish for a while then fade and perish, and
mingle with the dust. The sad knowledge had come too suddenly and in too
vivid and dreadful a manner. He could not endure it. Only for a
season!--only for a season! The earth would be green, and the sky blue,
and the sun shine bright for ever, and he would not see, not know it!
Struck with anguish at the thought, he stole away out of sight of the
others to hide himself in woods and thickets, to brood alone on such a
hateful destiny, and torture himself with vain longings, until he, too,
grew pale and thin and large-eyed, like the boy that had died, and those
who saw him shook their heads and whispered to one another that he was