would choose a thunder-storm, for instance; the following will show the
kind of my uncle's choice. One Sunday evening he took me for a longer
walk than usual. We had climbed a little hill: I believe it was the
first time I ever had a wide view of the earth. The horses were all
loose in the fields; the cattle were gathering their supper as the sun
went down; there was an indescribable hush in the air, as if Nature
herself knew the seventh day; there was no sound even of water, for
here the water crept slowly to the far-off sea, and the slant sunlight
shone back from just one bend of a canal-like river; the hay-stacks and
ricks of the last year gleamed golden in the farmyards; great fields of
wheat stood up stately around us, the glow in their yellow brought out
by the red poppies that sheltered in the forest of their stems; the
odour of the grass and clover came in pulses; and the soft blue sky was
flecked with white clouds tinged with pink, which deepened until it
gathered into a flaming rose in the west, where the sun was welling out
oceans of liquid red.

I looked up in my uncle's face. It shone in a calm glow, like an
answering rosy moon. The eyes of my mind were opened: I saw that he
felt something, and then I felt it too, His soul, with the glory for an
interpreter, kindled mine.

He, in turn, caught the sight of my face, and his soul broke forth in
one word:--

God! Willie; God!' was all he said; and surely it was enough.

It was only then in moments of strong repose that my uncle spoke to me
of God.