unwinding their flaky veils to fling them saucily across
the face of the sun.

But none of these wondrous visions lasted. They remained long enough
to wake in Larry's heart a great longing for more, and then they would
disappear and he would be all the lonelier for the lack of them. That
was the greatest of his discouragements. What would he care for heat
or cold or hunger or thirst if he could only capture these fleeting
pictures once for all, so that he could always gaze at them and dream
over them and make them his forever!

That was one of the things for which Larry was wishing as he lay under
the trees that summer day. He was thinking: "If there was _only_ some
way of getting them down from there! It seems to me I 'd do anything
in the world to be able to get them down from there. I--."

"No, you would n't," said a low voice next his ear,--"no, you would
n't. You 'd lie here and wish and wonder all day long, but you would
n't take the first step to bring your pictures down from heaven."

For a moment Larry was so mightily surprised that he found himself
quite at a loss for words, for there was no one near to be seen who
could possibly have addressed him; but presently he gained voice to
say,--

"Oh, I know I could n't get 'em o' course. Folks can't reach up and
bring clouds down out o' de sky."

"I did n't say anything about clouds nor about the sky," returned the
voice. "I was speaking about pictures and heaven. Folks can reach up
and bring pictures down out of heaven. It's done every day. Geniuses
do it."

"Who is geniuses?" asked untaught Larry.

"People who can get near enough heaven to catch glimpses of its
wonderful beauty and paint it on canvas or carve it in marble for the
world to see, or who hear snatches of its music and set them upon paper
for the world to hear; and they are called artists and sculptors and
composers and poets."

"What takes 'em up to heaven?" queried Larry.

"Inspiration," answered the voice.

"I don't know o' that. I never seen it," the boy returned. "Is it
death?"

"No; it is life. But you would n't understand if I could explain it,
which I cannot. No one understands it. But it is there just the same.
You have it, but you do not know how to use it yet. You never will
unless you do something besides lie beneath the trees and dream. Why
can't you do something?"

"Oh, I'm tired with all the things I 'm not doin'!" said Larry, in his
petulant, whimsic