s rolled herself
again and again in the warm earth and shaken herself after each roll
with an equine delight most pleasant to see. Now, from time to time, I
can hear her gossipy whickerings as she calls across the fields to my
neighbour Horace's young bay colts.

When I first woke up this morning I said to myself:

"Well, nothing happened yesterday."

Then I lay quiet for some time--it being Sunday morning--and I turned
over in my mind all that I had heard or seen or felt or thought about in
that one day. And presently I said aloud to myself:

"Why, nearly everything happened yesterday."

And the more I thought of it the more interesting, the more wonderful,
the more explanatory of high things, appeared the common doings of that
June Saturday. I had walked among unusual events--and had not known the
wonder of them! I had eyes, but I did not see--and ears, but I heard
not. It may be, it _may_ be, that the Future Life of which we have had
such confusing but wistful prophecies is only the reliving with a full
understanding, of this marvellous Life that we now know. To a full
understanding this day, this moment even--here in this quiet room--would
contain enough to crowd an eternity. Oh, we are children yet--playing
with things much too large for us--much too full of meaning.

* * * * *

Yesterday I cut my field of early clover. I should have been at it a
full week earlier if it had not been for the frequent and sousing spring
showers. Already half the blossoms of the clover had turned brown and
were shriveling away into inconspicuous seediness. The leaves underneath
on the lower parts of the stems were curling up and fading; many of
them had already dropped away. There is a tide also in the affairs of
clover and if a farmer would profit by his crop, it must be taken at its
flood.

I began to watch the skies with some anxiety, and on Thursday I was
delighted to see the weather become clearer, and a warm dry wind spring
up from the southwest. On Friday there was not so much as a cloud of the
size of a man's hand to be seen anywhere in the sky, not one, and the
sun with lively diligence had begun to make up for the listlessness of
the past week. It was hot and dry enough to suit the most exacting
hay-maker.

Encouraged by these favourable symptoms I sent word to Dick Sheridan (by
one of Horace's men) to come over bright and early on Saturday morning.
My field is only a small one and s