e feeling of a quiet
resurrection.

Elsewhere and in cities one awakes reluctantly; the trumpet of the Angel
of the Day is heard with deaf ears; but here in the keen coolness, the
vast greenness, the infinite interspace of prairie betwixt city and
city, I was awake and keen and cool as dewy grass, and as peaceful as
the stars even before the Day blew her horn upon the verge of a far
horizon. This was summer, but it was not dawn yet; the year was young
even in August because this was night; and I was part of the hour and
the year. It was well with the world and well with me as I left the camp
and marched snuffing the air like an antelope and with as keen a joy.
And as I walked I was aware again that it was not night, for there was a
Day-spring in the East, a pale glow like a whitish mirage, and star by
star the night departed, till I stayed and looked back to the west and
saw the silent waggon under which my sleeping comrade still lay
unconscious of the hour. And slowly, very slowly the Glory of the
Morning broke out of bondage and covered the glory of the night until
the pallor of the new-born day was fine pale gold, and the gold was
under-edged with rose, and the rose grew insistently and shot upward
like a great corona upon the eclipsing earth. And as I stood, balancing
lightly upon my light feet, bathed with dew, I moved my lips and greeted
Day without conscious words, being even as my own ancestor, who perhaps
had no words of greeting. And so upon that solitude the day was born
like a new miracle with only one visible worshipper, and the sun rose up
like a star and was then a convexed line of fire, and presently it ate a
little into the prairie; and the world was light and rose and green and
very near me, so that I sighed a little and then walked back briskly to
the camp and raised a loud shout, not to the sun, but to my fellow-men.
For the Glory had departed and there was the work of the day to be done.

THE END

_Colston & Coy. Limited, Printers, Edinburgh._

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