r refreshment and society. I find that I have
come a little prematurely, although my welcome has been even warmer
than it would have been later.

"This is what I like," my old friend seemed to say. "You have not
waited until I have set my house in order and embellished my grounds.
You have come because you love me even more than my surroundings. I
have a good many friends who know me only from May to October: the rest
of the year they give me cold glances of surprised recognition, or they
pass me by without so much as a look. Their ardent devotion in summer
fills me with a deep disdain; their admiration for great masses of
colour, for high, striking effects, and for the general lavishness and
prodigality of my passing mood, betrays their lack of discernment,
their defect of taste, and their slight acquaintance with myself. I
should much prefer that they would leave my woods and fields untrodden,
and not disturb my mountain solitudes with their ignorant and vulgar
raptures. The people who really know me and love me seek me oftener at
other seasons, when I am more at leisure, and can bid them to a more
intimate companionship. They come to understand my finer moods and
deeper secrets of beauty; the elusive loveliness which I leave behind
me to lure on my true friends through the late autumn, they find and
follow with the eye and heart of love; the rare and splendid aspects in
which I often discover my presence in midwinter they enjoy all the more
because I have withdrawn myself from the gaze of the crowd; and the
first faint touches of colour and soft breathings of life, which
announce my return in the early spring, they greet with the deep joy of
true lovers. Those only who discern the beauty of branches from which
I have stripped the leaves to uncover their exquisite outline and
symmetry, who can look over bare fields and into the faded copse and
find there the elusive beauty which hides in soft tones and low
colours, are my true friends; all others are either pretenders or
distant acquaintances."

I was not at all surprised to hear my old friend express sentiments so
utterly at variance with those held by many people who lay claim to her
friendship; in fact, they are sentiments which I find every year
becoming more and more my own convictions. In every gallery of
paintings you will find the untrained about the pictures on which the
artist has lavished the highest colours from his palette; those whose
taste fo