desolate recess filled evening shadow, and walled round by masses
of gray and purple crag, except in one spot, where a green intervening
fell marked the course of the pass connecting the dale with the
Ullswater district. Below him were church and parsonage; beyond,
the stone-filled babbling river, edged by intensely green fields,
which melted imperceptibly into the browner stretches of the opposite
mountain. Most of the scene, except where the hills at the end
rose highest and shut out the sun, was bathed in quiet light. The
white patches on the farm-houses, the heckberry trees along the
river and the road, emphasized the golden rays which were flooding
into the lower valley as into a broad green cup. Close by, in the
little vicarage orchard, were fruit-trees in blossom; the air was
mild and fragrant, though to the young man from the warmer south
there was still a bracing quality in the soft western breeze which
blew about him.

He stood there bathed in silent enchantment, an eager nature going
out to meet and absorb into itself the beauty and peace of the
scene. Lines of Wordsworth were on his lips; the little well-worn
volume was in his pocket, but he did not need to bring it out; and
his voice had all a poet's intensity of emphasis as he strolled
along, reciting under his breath--

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless; with adoration!

Presently his eye was once more caught by the roof of Burwood, lying
beneath him on its promontory of land, in the quiet shelter of its
protecting trees. He stopped, and a delicate sense of harmonious