grass--and they were red-tipped daisies. There was besides, in the very
heart of it, one plant of the finest pimpernels I have ever seen, and
this was my introduction to the flower. Nor were these all the
treasures of the spot. A late primrose, a tiny child, born out of due
time, opened its timid petals in the same hollow. Here then we
regathered red-tipped daisies, large pimpernels, and one tiny primrose.
I lay and looked at them in delight--not at all inclined to pull them,
for they were where I loved to see them. I never had much inclination
to gather flowers. I see them as a part of a whole, and rejoice in them
in their own place without any desire to appropriate them. I lay and
looked at these for a long time. Perhaps I fell asleep. I do not know.
I have often waked in the open air. All at once I looked up and saw a
vision.

My reader will please to remember that up to this hour I had never seen
a lady. I cannot by any stretch call my worthy aunt a lady; and my
grandmother was too old, and too much an object of mysterious anxiety,
to produce the impression, of a lady upon me. Suddenly I became aware
that a lady was looking down on me. Over the edge of my horizon, the
circle of the hollow that touched the sky, her face shone like a rising
moon. Sweet eyes looked on me, and a sweet mouth was tremulous with a
smile. I will not attempt to describe her. To my childish eyes she was
much what a descended angel must have been to eyes of old, in the days
when angels did descend, and there were Arabs or Jews on the earth who
could see them. A new knowledge dawned in me. I lay motionless, looking
up with worship in my heart. As suddenly she vanished. I lay far into
the twilight, and then rose and went home, half bewildered, with a
sense of heaven about me which settled into the fancy that my mother
had come to see me. I wondered afterwards that I had not followed her;
but I never forgot her, and, morning, midday, or evening, whenever the