of sunset. As I pass over the boundary line of the forest once more,
faint and far the song of the thrush searches the wood, and, finding
me, leaves its ethereal note in my memory--a note wild as the forest,
and thrilling into momentary consciousness I know not what forgotten
ages of awe and wonder and worship.

Chapter XII

Beside the River

All day long the river has moved through my thought as it rolls through
the landscape spread out at my feet. There it lies, winding for many a
mile within the boundaries of this noble outlook; by day flecked with
sails approaching and receding, and at night shining under the full
moon like a girdle of silver, clasping mountains and broad meadow lands
in a varied but harmonious landscape. From the point at which I look
out upon its long course, the stream has a setting worthy of its volume
and its history. In the distant background a mountain range, of noble
altitude and outline, has today an ethereal strength and splendour; a
slight haze has obliterated all details, and left the great hills soft
and dream-like in the September sunshine; at first sight one waits to
see them vanish, but they remain, wrought upon by sunlight and
atmosphere, until the twilight touches them with purple and night turns
them into mighty shadows. On either hand, in the middle ground of the
picture, long lines of hills shut the river within a world of its own,
and shelter the green meadows, the fallow fields, and the stretches of
woodland that cover the broad sweep from the river's edge to their own
bases. Below me the quiet current enters the heart of another group of
mountains, flowing silently between the precipitous and rocky heights
that lift themselves on either hand, indifferent alike to the frowning
summits when the sun warms them with smiles, and to the black and
portentous shadows which they often cast across the channel at their
feet. The solitude and awe which belong to mountain passes through
which great rivers flow clothe this place with solemnity and majesty as
with a visible garment, and fill one with a sense of indescribable awe.

The river which lies before me moves through a mist of legend and
tradition as well as through a landscape of substantial history. It
has been called an epical river because of the varied and sustained
beauty through which it sweeps from its mountain sources to the sea;
but as I turn from it, and the visible loveliness of its banks fades
from sig