of jumps, all four feet leaving the earth at once. There are immense
oaks that we come to now, each with an open space beneath it, where
Titania and the fairies may dance their rings at night. These
enormous trunks--what _time_ they represent! To us, each hour is of
consequence, especially in this modern day, which has invented the
detestable creed that time is money. But time is not money to
Nature. She never hastens. Slowly from the tiny acorn grew up this
gigantic trunk, and spread abroad those limbs which in themselves
are trees. And from the trunk itself to the smallest leaf, every
infinitesimal atom of which it is composed was perfected slowly,
gradually--there was no hurry, no attempt to discount effect. A
little farther and the ground declines; through the tall fern we
come upon a valley. But the soft warm sunshine, the stillness, the
solitude, have induced an irresistible idleness. Let us lie down
upon the fern, on the edge of the green vale, and gaze up at the
slow clouds as they drift across the blue vault.

The subtle influence of Nature penetrates every limb and every vein,
fills the soul with a perfect contentment, an absence of all wish
except to lie there, half in sunshine, half in shade, for ever in a
Nirvana of indifference to all but the exquisite delight of simply
_living_. The wind in the tree-tops overhead sighs in soft music,
and ever and anon a leaf falls with a slight rustle to mark time.

The clouds go by in rhythmic motion, the ferns whisper verses in the
ear, the beams of the wondrous sun in endless song, for he, also,

In his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim,
Such harmony is in immortal souls!

Time is to us now no more than it was to the oak; we have no
consciousness of it. Only we feel the broad earth beneath us, and as
to the ancient giant, so there passes through us a strength renewing
itself, of vital energy flowing into the frame. It may be an hour,
it may be two hours, when, without the aid of sound or sight, we
become aware by an indescribable, supersensuous perception that
living creatures are approaching. Sit up without noise and look:
there is a herd of deer feeding down the narrow valley close at
hand, within a stone's-throw. And these are deer indeed--no puny
creatures, but the 'tall deer' that William the Conqueror loved 'as
if he were their father.' Fawns are darting here and there, frisking
round the does. How many may ther