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PRESENTED TO THE LIBRARY 
 
 BY 
 
 Estate of the late 
 J3r» Helen R.Y.Reid, 
 
 MSGILL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 3736-^ 5 
 
 1947 
 
/ruZ' 
 
 ^^ZyiA-^<-^(- 
 
McOIII Unlvcrilly Llbrirlai 
 
 PS 2353 16 1898 
 In tht brut of vdM. 
 
 3 000 752 393 E 
 
-I 
 
=5»^»'H^?^5?^?-^?,F*" 
 
 TOHONTO (;a\\1)\ ti !,i ;>ij, . 
 GhOKGK N. MORANr; MDrCCXCVl!! 
 
PS2353 16 1898 McLennan 
 Mabie, Hamilton Wright 
 ^" ^ ^Q forest of arden 
 71850069 
 
 *2^* 
 
 CopyrigHt. 189,. 18,3, ,8,8. b BodniIi7 - . 
 
 Prewwork by the University Pre«. 
 
 Cambridge, U. S. A. 
 
 

 
 
 -V 
 
 '-^ ^/ 
 
 
 <;^ 
 
 X^P-: 
 
 ^^ In the Forest of Arden 
 
 ^t^&i 
 
 Go with me : if you like, upon report, 
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
 I will your very faithful factor be, 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly 
 
 3736^5 
 
mj^^mmtjmm .'- ■ 
 
^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 

StW-v_ 
 
I 
 
 Under the greenwood tree, 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 And turn his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither 
 
 ^■# 
 
ft 
 
 y< 
 
 
 m 
 
 ^ I 
 
 
 ill 
 
Rosalind had just laid a spray of 
 '•^jji^v- 'iiii apple blossoms on the study table. 
 
 ''Well/' I said, ''when shall we 
 start ? " 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 Rosalind has a habit of swift deci- 
 sion when she has settled a question 
 
 #S' 
 
 
 yp 
 
 II 
 
 mm. 
 
 ■C''' v:|"^(| in her own mind, and I was not sur- LWi 
 
 prised when she replied with a single f;y||l 
 
 ,. ^.^w^ decisive word. But she also has a ||iLf||| 
 
 L5to:^'{,.||A| habit of making thorough preparation Sj|| 
 |i4|J;yMi>Si||j for any undertaking, and now she was |^!!|jjii|| 
 K^ii!!IA(Aii,i(iliil^^M quietly proposing to go off for the |p^i|(| 
 '^^'fl'\ summer the very next day, and not a M^''l|l''; 
 ;. jj'^'l trunk was packed, not a seat secured ||p'J';&j,^,.,'>:1 
 '\giipi in any train, not a movement made H^'-'i :''/'? '''■■'*' 
 toward any winding up of household k') 't 
 affairs. I had great faith in her ability LivJIi ^ . 
 to execute her plans with celerity, jmrjll'r ' ■■C''''' 
 
 W'& < 
 
 1.11, 
 
 M 
 
 
 ii 
 
 ^i^i but I doubted whether she could belifif ,;|iii;i,,r 
 ready to turn the key in the door, bid o;l/|!'|i 
 farewell to the milkman and thel|^^#| |j|||^ 
 butcher, and start the very next '^^i 1^!";!^ ■:'i3^M 
 

 
 
 I? lifr *^» ^ for the Forest of Axden. For several H 'i^^-tw m 
 ^:'^*'-\i^^,^ ,^past seasons we had planned this bold ^'^^^1%^,^ 
 ^ '''jjf«,ui5^v N excursion into a country which few [i p^r^k^ m 
 <^4iL^V,^ persons have seemed to know much h >, 
 ^ ^iSf li about since the day when a poet of 
 ^i»^ *| great fame, familiar with many strange 
 lir.L.*.^ 0^ climes and peoples, found his way 
 thither and shared the golden fortune of 
 his journey with all the world. Winter 
 ,^l after winter, before the study fire, we 
 7lt'^^'^ made merry plans for this trip 
 g,,^j„,,r_j. into the magical forest; we had dis- 
 
 t^ V ^ ''^i cussed the best methods of travelling 
 '^^ v.**:;^ i where no roads led ; we had enjoyed 
 
 ■^*'->' 
 
 fey 
 
 Pi -"fT 
 
 |*> i? ^!Un anticipation the surmises of our l^^^XV* fj^ 
 
 ^^;%f^)^'^| neighbours concerning our unexplained 
 ' f^Vm^'^^ absence, and the delightful mystery 
 §^^K^|"^ which would always linger about us 
 
 ^ 
 
 H'> i* 
 
 w 
 
 
 i^SK^^'j ^^^^ "^^ ^^^ returned, with memories 
 Lc^^3| ^ of a landscape which no eyes but ours 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 jhad seen these many years, and of 
 ^ ! rare and original people whose voices 
 )^had been silent in common speech so 
 
 •J ~v . r ■ ''•.'■ ■'■,-,;'■■■> '■■;J»''**" ' 'v''/ •'■*■■'■■< 
 
 ' '"^^'Ja 
 
 a' 
 
 Jl\v 
 
 
 ,js£l^.>i-i' 
 
 ^ 
 
 y 
 
 ''■'■^ys- 
 
 
 Ifilhll* liWu iiiiI^UUljilJiU4lUW3U^HU''-,llL'i.*'''h'l-'i3v'ri(Jl'j^^^ 
 
 iii: 
 
 ,.., . . .. '...1 
 
 m 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 J' 
 
 
 I 
 
 rf u 1 I r uu 1. 
 
 ^-Si\ f 
 
 ~ ' MBM "'^j'W^''' 
 
 
 
 
 
 * t 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ''^i^.^w^w 
 
 
 f many generations that only a few fjf^p:«. j^jf 
 Kgi^j^'T'K dreamers like ourselves even remem-l|||>-^rft$iy;^ 
 Wm Y%, ^^'■^^ t^^t they had ever spoken. We A aX 
 C,Sw^^ 1,1 had looked along the library shelves J |^|j^lf;:" 
 feM.^ '?for the books we should take with us4Siffe&"~-^''X.;!^ 
 If'^'^^Si j^JJ^ti^ we remembered that in that coun- |:5^ ' '^<^''^ ■ - 
 \ ^ %r' J| *^^ *^^^ ^^''^ books in the running ?|;: 
 '' ^ '^ ] '"I streams. Rosalind had gone so far as i 
 
 J I, 
 
 V"7f 
 
 ^ 
 
 t^ 
 
 ' ^j^i'tl^flto lay aside a certain volume of ser- 
 mons whose aspiring note had more 
 than once made music of the momen- 
 \ ' tary discords of her life ; but I reminded 
 
 %, i '\ 
 
 f\r« ^\ 
 
 ^c f ,^A h^** *h^* '^"ch ^ work would be strangely : t r; , '|^ 
 
 \ilwW sermons in stones. Finally we had de- fc^ -;£,J|"t| 
 
 C^^jcided to leave books behind and go free- fSl,^:^ ■ ' • 
 
 |f*^|^> J minded as well as free-hearted. It had ^^^ r '^ 
 
 "ii&^iibeen a serious question how much and ^^'"5"'^- ' "^^^ 
 
 what apparel we should take with us, 
 
 1 1, ■< 
 
 % i 
 
 
 mi 
 
 the apple trees came to their blossom- q,^ ^^t^'"% 
 
 "km. ■;:■ 'W ' I 
 
 •?lj and that point was still unsettled when ^ihi, 
 
 
 ^l" ing. It is a theory of mine that the || !'; J iih%^ 
 chief delight of a vacation from one's ^^'i^^^l^?*^^' 
 
 
 1^ iU 
 
 r- \Ji^ .•< \v.jp^^ ^ "^ ^ 'ifi^<f^:,Ms^^'7'^^^::^}^"Kt^ 
 
 w 
 
 IKelMK^jeBKaamwnu.. 
 
,\!i 
 
 
 ' ntHK-i-- ''JI'.V.'iVi' ''^*MHl« ''^\^'^iimiM 
 
 m 
 
 
 fe 
 
 liifeC^^^^ 
 
 
 
 feZ^kl'^''''*^ "^"^^ occupations is freedom fromfC^i^'/SiC^-S 
 
 W^^^^^ the tyranny of plans and dates, andS'-^^ifeS 
 
 4;^"4S''^ll *^"s much Rosahnd had conceded to,' ? S^w 
 
 !rfj||||^ There had been an irresistible charm||i^.-;j^;/i^ 
 
 ^^^SHwi ^" *^^ ^^**y secrecy which protected ourii«'Sil^;M|; 
 
 iipipl adventure from the curious and unsym-!#;f ^ 
 
 Wiili pathetic comment of the world. We^ifW 
 
 'fW^'^m ^°""^ endless pleasure in imagining W J|S 
 
 «h^..^'::-' ■ ^I'J ,^h^t this and that good neighbour of^wllSlI 
 
 
 u 
 
 l^h 
 
 u,^ 
 
 
 li'ttttflui-^ 
 
 and uncertain shelter of a strange forest. ||^;^SH 
 ''For my part/' we gleefully heard Mrs^r .! . Z^^ v 
 Grundy declare, — '' for my part, I can-|^" ■ " '^^^ 
 not understand why two people old 
 enough to ki w better should make 
 tramps of themselves and go rambling 
 about a piece of woods that nobody 
 ever heard of, in the heat of the mid- 
 summer." Poor Mrs. Grundy! We 
 could well afford to laugh merrily at 
 
 ^ga 
 
 'i;l:S!)l' 
 
 . ': III 
 
 »■ .I'i'i 
 
 ^■u 
 
 
 £ 
 
 S^jt-^^ 
 
 
 tf^ 
 
 \mK\^ 
 

 
 
 
 
 ^.t^i,% 
 
 
 
 d i 
 
 «|Silill her scornful expostulations; for while |^f)('/ftjic if ij^i^f^ 
 ^^||| she was repeating platitudes to over- M^'^:!^! 
 '^^4f§i(MM d^sssed and uninteresting people at Old- 
 port, we should be making sunny play 
 of life with men and woTicn whose 
 
 i, i;^i)uu'!x_;-.X 
 
 thoughts were free is tht wind, and 
 111 whose hearts were fresh as the dew us ,:ii;,,,:, , , 
 
 J^';il« 
 
 r:!!^:^, and the stars. And often when our talk v5;7lS$ff ? 
 
 % ^' flU'^k^:-^', had died into silence, and the wind with- ^■■■,fM^'Sh''i 
 
 « l) I;., out whistled to the fire within, we had |J , I f!;''j 
 
 I^Wriii'^^^^' 1^^^ fallen to dreaming of those shadowy ' 'j 1 jjp 
 
 |l:i'f ,1 ;ilM' aisles arched by the mighty trees, and^'V;,', ' '.■■■*^t 
 
 ||ii||4':';'pp of the splendtd pageant that should i'::/H>;.' ,,,^ !|| 
 
 ri' ..Miliii'i::'l!i.L/i,'jIf make life seem as ereat and rich as ^r "'''"'.;■''''' ii.'i:, 
 
 u. ill make life seem as great and rich as 
 
 [!|f|iiii Nature herself. I confess that all my . ', 
 
 I .1 
 
 VII 
 
 dreams came to one ending; that I nji- 1/ I ;! 1 
 
 should suddenly awake in some golden f^i^ 
 
 ^t\^A 
 
 hour and really know Rosalind. Of | j 
 
 
 .M 
 
 !,■; :, 
 
 course I had been coming, through allfH'Jiir v 
 
 Y these years, to know something about 
 
 % 
 
 /'f^H' 
 
 
 
 
 rjJ/K ■ -"lirf^imin 
 
 ^..iMIIMBIK ~»'Ji !^imini>^ ^ ,i»,i.u--- .,■ ,...,011.111 
 
 2i?2iiia^i,^iitii 
 
 
 iiiUjUiji 
 
 .■^*T- ., K ^, '«^ifK»»« 
 
^r^m ♦•»? 
 
 
 *>R|l>'a|M|f»*fH| M„, 
 
 4»U| 
 
 
 
 "Wr^fm • 
 
 
 i 
 
 r^i^iJL 
 
 
 jjjj l^y/^«,'rf YJbc made, and triction and worry and ^^^.c-''*^ 
 
 5; »>',^^.»<|i^ ,i fatigue to be borne, how can we really k^Ji^!^'$ 
 
 il'^'j^^, iicome to know one another? We may [rl^A^flli, " 
 
 j ^'''S^ j ^^^^ *^^ vicissitudes and changes side fi'f 
 
 I '"S: J ^y ^^^^ * ^^ "^^y '^o^^ together in the 
 
 !V)-<^ I ^ong days of toil ; our hearts may repose 
 
 hi'L-"^ '^ on a common trust, our thnuahfs tr^iv^l 
 
 «/■ 
 
 ij,?fK?" 
 
 on a common trust, our thoughts travel 
 a common road ; but how rarely do we 
 come to the hour when the pressure of 
 toil is removed, the clouds of anxiety 
 melt into blue sky, and in the whole 
 ^'^M^MI "^^^^^ nothing remains but the sun on 
 ''')'M'M *^^ flo'-'^^^V ^"^ the song in the trees, 
 k*^;:v ->f.r,, ^nd the unclouded light of love in the 
 
 
 I dreamed, too, that in finding Rosa- 
 lind I should also find myself. There 
 were times when I had seemed on the LY/S^ ^/i^.* 
 very point of making this discovery, E^p 
 but something had always turned rm\?^%i^.'sf 
 aside when the quest was most eager 'Xpi^i (^^4 
 and promising; the worl 
 
 jl the seclusion for which I 
 
 '.r-'ssec^ into K\-a3w^I 
 
 i:,',jMLil;j-iii 
 
 m 
 
 kL ,:(ii',sit:i,;..::t«i?^.K«^' 
 
 
 
 .^ r 
 
 k*'A^ 
 
 .^ 
 

 ■■ '^j. if ''A 
 
 
 '^'^X^ii'' e^ 
 
 
 ■r L 
 
 
 
 had vanished. To get out of the uproar -^4 aj, 
 
 .'^^.tj' I and confusion of things, I had often fan-i ^yv ; 
 
 q^ ''A cied, would be like exchanging the 'usty - ;%^ y.;;; 
 
 ^J yi mid-summer road for the shade or the ^v xMii-lii 
 
 1 "p woods where the brook calms the day ,;'! ' | 
 
 , with its pellucid note of effortless fl( w, jvif !rl''M'ii#:^ 
 
 " ,' and the hours hide themselves k^^m'/^S:']-:'' ''''i^^'^, 
 
 '; the glances of the sun. In the Forest of i'^^' > ^^. 
 
 ,^v;ii had certain surprises for me; certain 
 vjplj secrets which she has been holding 
 \fi. % back for the fortunate hour when her 
 
 l\jt ^^''^1 spell would be supreme and unbroken., ^*k^^'& 
 
 / ^ ' 1 1 even hoped that I might come una- i y^: f^ « 
 
 n^-^f ''' ^K^ I''/ ware upon that ancient and perenniaH^ 'J ®%l 
 
 ? ', t -^-J^'ff ' movement of life upon which I seemed i %9>'v\^^^ • 
 
 IfwtHo Si 
 
 rftf .L ^ 
 
 urn ( 
 
. m- 
 
 
 ^gS^ll^he^ soulful ^ melody of the nightingale, 
 
 ^i|)athetic with unappeasable sorrow. In 
 t'^i^fiS^^^^^ *^^ Forest of Arden, too, there were 
 l^^p|||||jnspoiIed men and women, as indiffer- 
 '" " |Jf nt to the fashion of the world and 
 ' ■ the folly of the hour as the stars to the 
 ^^:{|mpalpable mist of the clouds; men and 
 i^^omen who spoke the truth, and saw 
 Ijihe fact, and lived the right; to whom 
 Jove and faith and high hopes were 
 inore real than the crowns of which 
 [hey had been despoiled, and the king- 
 doms from which they had been re- 
 fected. All this I had dreamed, and I 
 low not how many other brave and 
 beautiful dreams, and I was dreaming 
 fhem again when Rosalind laid the 
 ipple blossoms on the study tabic, and 
 mswered, decisively, *' To-morrow." 
 
 
 W. .-ilil 
 
liiii;;;v>aj 
 
 »ltW-, 
 
 
 
 ■»«!?& ■-^*-^'^' 
 
 r^ . 
 
 .^^-^i^*"^ 
 
 
 " To-morrow/* I repeated, *^ to-mor- 
 'ow. But how are you going to 
 :ct ready ? If you sit up all night you 
 annot get through with the packing. 
 liYou said only yesterday that your 
 jliunimer dressmaking was shame- 
 fully behind. My dear, next week 
 Ms the earliest possible time for our 
 
 ./: Rosalind laughed archly, and pushed b r 
 
 \|;the apple blossoms over the wofully fM 
 
 ||ti;^|ntcrlined manuscript of my new article M ' 
 
 n||bn Egypt. There was in her very [J\ < 
 
 i^yattitude a hint of unsuspected buoyancy 
 
 j|Mnd strength; there was in her eyes 
 
 \(y|a light which I have never seen under 
 
 IqjDur uncertain skies. The breath of the 
 
 l^pple blossoms filled the room, and a 
 
 jobolink, poised on a branch outside 
 
 he window, suddenly poured a rap- 
 
 Ijturous song into the silence of the 
 
 iweet spring day. I laid down my 
 
 >en, pushed my scattered sheets into 
 
 M 
 
 
 (\ 
 
,1 
 
 an 
 
 
 Iff^'^l the portfolio, covered the inkstand, and I Ssi^i J i! 
 f^^VW ^ laid my hand in hers. " Not to-mor- fe||^ I 
 P^M row/' I said, "not to-morrow. Let us ^-i^Sf^'^ 
 
 f~'f^i^ 
 
 
 . ^7 VMS 
 
 •A 
 
 J: 
 

 . i-jf^ilU.*"""' " 
 
 
 
 and I 'm^i^^J I 
 
 us fi sr'f^ 
 
 ^'v-' 
 
 *\*^ 
 
 >i 
 
 iffi^ />- .1". 
 
 
 K^ijii 
 
 
 ^.; 
 
 M'^. 
 
 iriv 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 Now go wc in content 
 
 To liberty and not to banishment 
 
 i 
 
 Ji! 
 
 
 \ (^ 
 
 will mil iliuiJiliiiiiil>iiiilii<tl 
 
 t 
 
 ^f 
 
 !5i„N! 
 
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 I have sometimes entertained myself 
 by trying to imagine the impressions^ 
 which our modern life would make 
 upon some sensitive mind of a remote | 
 age. I have fancied myself rambling 
 about New York with Montaigne, 
 and taking note of his shrewd, satirical 
 comment. I can hardly imagine him 
 expressing any feeling of surprise, much 
 less any sentiment of admiration; but 
 I am confident that under a masque of 
 ironical self-complacency the old Gascon 
 would find it difficult to repress his 
 astonishment, and still more difficult to 
 adjust his mind to evident and impres- 
 sive changes. I have ventured at times 
 to imagine myself in the company of 
 another more remote and finely organ- 
 ised spirit of the past, and pictured to 
 myself the keen, dispassionate criticism of 
 Pericles on the things of modern habit 
 and creation; I have listened to his 
 luminous interpretations of the changed 
 
 't ^H 
 
 &.'* 
 
 si-T 
 
 I 
 
 f(< 
 
 iA 
 
 11 
 

 
 
 ifC^Siis 
 
 
 
 !:^ 
 
 l^gP ..nditions which he saw about h^; l^M 
 ^ ™Sii ^^^^ "°t^d ^s unconcern toward the ^^NT" 
 ^'""'^^"W "^^^«^y material advances of society, his fe&^li 
 :,,,;^ penetrative insight into its intellectual f^^mX 
 and moral developments. A mind so ^ 
 capacious and open, a nature so trained 
 and poised, could not be otherwise 
 than self-contained and calm even in 
 the presence of changes so vast and 
 manifold as those which have trans- 
 formed society since the days of the 
 great Athenian; but even he could not 
 be quite unmoved if brought face to 
 face with a life so unlike that with 
 which he had been familiar; there 
 must come, even to one who feels 
 the mastery of the soul over all con- 
 ditions, a certain sense of wonder and 
 awe. 
 
 It was with some such feeling that 
 
 Rosalind and I found ourselves in the 
 
 Forest of Arden. The journey was so 
 
 soon accomplished that we had no time 
 
 •A 
 
 l||Sii 
 
 m 
 
 i6 
 
 I »' iimwMniiiMmniiitta 
 
 ■HiBiiHi 
 
iirz 
 
 
 1^^ 
 
 \^^ 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 ^ii^ 
 
 to accustom ourselves to the changes 
 between the country we had left and 
 that to which we had come. We had 
 always fancied that the road would be 
 long and hard, and that we should 
 arrive worn and spent with the fatigues 
 of travel. We were astonished and de- 
 lighted when we suddenly discovered 
 that we were within the boundaries of 
 the Forest long before we had begun 
 I to think of the end of our journey. We 
 I had said nothing to each other by the 
 way; our thoughts were so busy that 
 we had no time for speech. There were 
 no other travellers; everybody seemed 
 to be going in the opposite direction; 
 and we were left to undisturbed medi- 
 tation. The route to the Forest is one 
 of those open secrets which whosoever 
 would know must learn for himself; it 
 is impossible to direct those who do not 
 discover for themselves how to make 
 the journey. The Forest is probably 
 
 it';ti^i-'" 
 
 '.''^'-j 
 
 mi 
 
 i 
 
 wkMmri 
 mi 
 
 f 
 
 .1, 
 
 i 
 
 ih 
 
 Mi I 
 'liti 
 
 11 
 
 in 
 
..-ijrsrf" 
 
 
 \\ 
 
 ^mf^ *^)]t^e i^ost accessible place on the face 
 \>^'^^:M- A of the earth, but it is so rarely visited 
 
 ^^/'•^ H *^^* °"^ "^^y ^° ^^^f ^ lifetime without 
 V'^Lk'iv^^ meeting a person who has been there. 
 J 1 I have never been able to explain the 
 *r i| fact that those who have spent some 
 I time in the Forest, as well as those 
 'i who are later to see it, seem to recog- 
 nise each other by instinct. Rosalind 
 and I happen to have a large circle of 
 acquaintances, and it has been our good 
 fortune to meet and recognise many who 
 were familiar with the Forest, and who 
 were able to tell us much about its 
 localities and charms. It is not gener- 
 ally known, and it is probably wise 
 not to emphasise the fact, that the for- 
 tunate few who have access to the 
 Forest form a kind of secret fraternity; 
 a brotherhood of the soul which is secret 
 because those alone who are qualified for 
 rnembership by nature can understand 
 either its language or its aims. It is a 
 
 
 i^\ 
 
 i^m^- 
 
 
 
 
 iflliiif^ 
 
 ill 
 
 I* i 
 
 mm 
 
m 
 
 m 
 
 Ml ' 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
 
 f, 
 
 very strange thing that the dwellers in |«g 
 the Forest never make the least attempt || 
 at concealment, but that, no matter how nil 
 i frank and explicit their statements may U 
 be, nobody outside the brotherhood ever §| 
 [understands where the Forest lies, or || 
 I what one finds when he gets there, j. 
 One may write what he chooses about 'mM 
 life in the Forest, and only those whom 
 Nature has selected and trained will 
 understand what he discloses ; to all ^ 
 others it will be an idle tale 
 story for the entertainment . ^^ 
 
 pie who have no serious business in g 
 
 hand. fe^''''^^i^'l 
 
 I remember well the first time I ever f^M^'^S 
 understood that there is a Forest °fp|piriP 
 Arden, and that they who choose maym^m'^^^ 
 wander through its arched aisles oftp'^^l^^^^ 
 
 >s; to all if.,,,,: :.',■« 
 or a fairy fciri'K?!! 
 
 (usiness in \t 'c pwm 
 
 shade and live at their will in its deep &^ ' ^^"^ 
 
 piSs 
 
 and beautiful solitude; a solitude inj;^^^ 
 
 which nature sits like a friend from «j^ . ^ |^Ai>u > 
 
 whose face the veil has been with-j,'K^i 
 
 ■j'j 
 
 Wl*i, 
 
 a 
 
 ,,1 
 
 II 
 
 i 
 
 '1 
 
 
 <y 
 

 tl 
 
 n, 
 
 I 
 
 *&"& 
 
 j^ 
 
 llg^gPdrawn, and whose strange and foreign ^^W^ 
 PP^:^ utterance has been excl^nged for Z ^^"^iW'^' 
 Pll most familiar speech. Since that memo- 
 '"' '|rable afternoon under the apple trees I 
 "have never been far from the Forest, 
 although at times I have lost sight of 
 the line which its foliage ma'es against 
 the horizon. I have always intended 
 to cross that line some day, and to ex- 
 plore the Forest ; perhaps even to make 
 a home for myself there. But one's 
 dreams must often wait for their reali- 
 sation, and so it has con:c to pass that 
 I have gone all these years without 
 personal familiarity with these beautiful 
 scenes. I have since learned that one 
 never comes to the Forest until he is 
 thoroughly prepared in heart and mind, 
 and I understand now that I could not 
 have come earlier even if I had made 
 the attempt. As it happened, I con- 
 cerned myself with other things, and 
 never approached very near the Forest, 
 
 
 HiiP/fr^s^'ift 
 
 i»a 
 
 Wlm 
 
 wmum 
 
 m 
 
 mm 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 ^kj 
 
 
 t^^*. ^- 
 
 'is~rs>.-^'iiii^i. 
 
 
 't*!?^ 
 
 "^^rif/M'^„-l^'Ull 
 
Ifct'* 
 
 
 
 
 irir:.' 
 
 
 |tti(«iffl! 
 
 although never very far from it. I was |f|i^;?^'*'^ 
 never quit-z happy unless I caught fre- 11114*'/''^' 
 quent glimpsts of its distant boughs, I'liill^f'''*'" 
 
 and I searched more and more eagerly ^i 
 for those who ad left some record of 
 their journeys to the Forest, and of 
 With v^WMii[iiwl t^si^ li^^ within its magical boundaries. 
 iJffSlill I discovered, to my great joy, that the »|P^ 
 |?2!;Sa libraries were full of books which had p||||;pl 
 
 §1 much to say about the delights of 
 ,,, ,, , J I Arden : its enchanting scenery; the 
 
 IlittCf >ftl "^"^'^ °^ ^*^ brooks ; the sweet and 
 "''' '''|H refreshing repose of its recesses; the 
 S noble company that frequent it. I soon 
 |H found that all the greater poets have 
 S3 been there, and that their lines had yijiLiii,,,™,,,™,,^ 
 caught the magical radiance of the sky; pl!|!i|Ji:'|:!JP 
 and many of the prose writers showed "^ '■'''''' ' 
 
 same familiarity with a country in 
 which they evidently found whatever 
 
 WA 
 
 m • :.... 
 
 '^ was sweetest and best in life. I came m(M 
 to know at last those whose knowledge p.|| 
 of Arden was most complete, and I put 
 
 ill 
 
 Hi 
 
 m 
 
 I! 
 
 "I 
 I, 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 r 
 
»).. 
 
 I 
 
 >ithem in a place by themselves; a cor- l,, 
 
 ncr in the study to which Rosalind | 
 
 and I went for the books we read to- [j 
 
 gether. I would gladly give a list of " 
 
 these works but for the fact I have 
 
 already hinted — that those who would 
 
 understand their references to Arden 
 
 will come to know them without aid ^ 
 
 from me, and that those who would 
 
 not understand could find nothing in 
 
 them even if I should give page and « 
 
 paragraph. It was a great surprise to } 
 
 me, when I first began to speak of the ' 
 
 Forest, to find that most people scouted 
 
 the very idea of such a country; many m-^c^fr ' - 
 
 did not even understand what I meant, m i¥>^ i 
 
 Many a time, at sunset, when the light f^'^^^L^, 
 
 has Iain soft and tender on the distant felS i^* ' 
 
 ^?j^?' I ^ave pointed it out, only to be K 
 
 ,. . , *°^° that what I thought was the Forest S'^ 
 
 ^^■vpp; ^ ^^^ a splendid pile of clouds, a shining ^ f 
 
 3|5S 1^^^^ °^ "^st. I came to understand at ^t^jn^if^ 
 
 m'^ ^'* *^^* "^'^'^ ^"^^^^ °^y ^r a few, vJ^Gs 
 
 ^«!^a.^Jt.. ,%-v:K;:-^->..:'- ■■■:■ ; fm^^.^^^^4 
 
 
 
 mmimm 
 
»'*'•" wr^n« ;i 
 
 I'i. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 fl 
 
 • i 
 
 .(li 
 ■iltl 
 
 •''I 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 ( 
 
 
 
 ll 
 
 iiiiiiiK 
 
 <• 
 
 '.'! 
 
' '■t 
 
 I 
 
 
 [i 
 
 > i 
 
 m 
 
 Pmttrwtrvpmr: 
 

 Mr 
 
 \ -t, 
 
 ^j^iand I ceased to talk about it save to 
 ' those who shared my faith. Gradually 
 I came to number among my friends 
 many who were in the habit of making 
 frequent journeys to the Forest, and 
 not a few who had spent the greater 
 part of their lives there. I remember 
 the first time I saw Rosalind I saw 
 the light of the Arden sky in her 
 , ,eyes, the buoyancy of the Arden air 
 ■* in her step, the purity and freedom oflft 
 the Arden life in her nature. We built « ^ 
 our home within sight of the Forest, ^j| 
 and there was never a day that we'""^^ 
 did not talk about and plan our long- 
 delayed journey thither. 7«cS^' 
 ^' After all," said Rosalind, on thatfe^^l, 
 first glorious morning in Arden, "as Ip|g,'|»^, 
 look back I see that we were always tf%^ 
 on the way here." 
 
 •t ( . 
 
 nl 
 
 »3 
 
 
 ri' 
 
 I 
 
 if' 
 
 i I 
 1 
 
 ft 
 
 i J 
 
 i jmiW.nw w»ii i ii » t .L i 
 
i 
 
 4 
 
 "i 
 
 -111 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
 .'Ml 
 
 •*i!»-«BSSK!p<. , 
 
) 
 
 0.1 
 
 
 V 
 
 
 m 
 
 Well, this is the Forest of Arden 
 
 h 
 
 !.'•' 
 
 i'li 
 
 
 I > 
 
I 
 
 i! 
 
 'I 
 
 u 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 »• i i Ufi p p wn 
 
r^«<,^. 
 
 The first sensation that comes toP-^'«^^.iv«W*'«Wi 
 
 one who finds himself at last within 
 
 the boundaries of the Forest of 
 
 is a delicious sense of freedom, 
 
 not sure that there is not a certain 
 
 t within «^'%#SS 
 i ArdenP^ 
 . I amyifiJii,-*iii 
 
 sympathy with outlawry in that first |ii;i||f^ 
 
 exhilarating consciousness of having 
 gotten out of the conventional worlds 
 — the world whose chief purpose is 
 that all men shall wear the same coat, 
 eat the same dinner, repeat the same 
 ,,,^ polite commonplaces, and be forgotten 
 t.'«| ^^ j^g^ under the same epitaph. Forests 
 have been the natural refuge of outlaws 
 from the earliest time, and among the 
 most respectable persons there has al- 
 ways been an ill-concealed liking for 
 Robin Hood and the whole fraternity 
 of the men of the bow. Truth is above 
 all things characteristic of the dwellers 
 in Arden, and it must be frankly con- 
 fessed at the beginning, therefore, that 
 the Forest is given over entirely to 
 
 m 
 m 
 
 MMi 
 
 mm 
 
 ¥IH* muutn* uiitt u 
 
 27 
 
 w 
 
 Mi 
 
 .y^ 
 
 &!i 
 
 iqiv 
 
 ii 
 
 /If 
 
 I'll 
 
 li 
 
 
!i 
 
 w 
 
 ■„iiM^^ ;!i,l|j of conventions, or who have voluntarily 
 
 outlaws; those who have committed pf^^i ^i3^ 
 
 'fill ^°"^^ g^'^ve offence against the world ill 
 
 ^ ,i gone into exile out of sheer liking for a 
 
 i^'teu^l li' j ^^^^ ^^* These persons are not vulgar 
 
 Kmmi ^^^-^^^^f s ' they have neither blood ,., 
 
 KfWri' f *^^''' ^^"^^ "°^ ill-gotten gains in Riir 
 
 I^Wl *h"7°^^ts; they a,^, on the contrary, Bfe 
 
 |>-;vC.,i:Sf;ii people of uncommonly ho_ est bearing M|;|Lii(.^^i 
 
 ikihiiM^^^^^ ""^"^ speech. Their offences ^vi-fWmmm4 
 
 mlM^^ impose small burden on thlipff 
 
 ihrjil those who have never known what itid'.^v , '■' 1 
 
 i?»?'ii|lni;S i? *°r ^^'"'^ *^^ ^""^s °" o^e's track. Iiiiiiii 
 ii |'#M Rosalind was struck with the charming |yiiii 
 
 P-'M^''^'^''' ^"^ ^^i^ty of every on^ f |I|S 
 ki.^:r.:mMAVic met in our first ramble on thatiW 
 
 
 iifcfl delicious and never-to-be-forgotten morn- „■ - 
 
 i: ^'''m.::,| ing when we arrived in Arden. There ||ri||!j...,.-,i 
 iSlS'v'^ Y^^ "either assumption nor diffidence ; Pp[[ .^ 
 p..,,.':'"v'v:;:';':v:.-:' there was rather an entire absence of&|'';':' ':%% 
 |fc%lll&nii<^ f*^^ ^^ °f self-consciousness. Rosa- ■■^'■■V,./l!'6'^l 
 M^m ^^"^ ^^ ^"^^^^ that we might be quite Y ^JIP^ 
 
 A'.rfiJ'rt'' r> ll'ii'iK. A^-*"-"'~" •' A i^illilikiiii,,. 'J'y? I 
 
 IHi 
 

 / » III 
 
 -iiiii.;/!:, I ii!i 
 
 mni 
 
 g^Mir ^■^'^^^o"^ *°^ ^ time, and we had expected I 4%; ^'-^ 
 
 »J^>^;^V4IA|;,, >j to have a few days to ourselves. We ^.^ 
 ^. . N^'vll had even planned in our romantic mo- E 
 
 r^ 
 
 Ai/ 
 
 ments — and there is always a good ('I iiC 
 deal of romance among the dwellers in ' 
 Arden — a continuation of our wedding 
 journey during the first week. 
 
 "It will be so much more delightful | 
 than before/^ suggested Rosalind, "be- 
 cause nobody will stare at us, and we 
 shall have the whole world to our- 
 selves." In that last phrase I recog- 
 nised the ideal wedding journey, and 
 was not at all dismayed at the prospect 
 of having no society but Rosalind's for 
 a time. But all such anticipations were 
 dispelled in an hour. It was not that 
 we met many people, — it is one of the 
 delights of the Forest that one finds 
 society enough to take away the sense 
 *] of isolation, but not enough to destroy .^^, 
 the sweetness of solitude ; it was rather ffS'l'S^ 
 that the few we met made us feel 
 
 #1 
 
 'M^ 
 
 ■5% 
 
 
 1 ^fy«ivp>J 
 
 i£: 
 
 29 
 
 at ifM^™ 
 
 jfidl-J* 
 
 
 
 
 If 
 
 
 '.J 
 ill 
 
 si 
 
 ii 
 

 
 
 ^s 
 
 p^J once that we had equal claim with*^^&^!^ '^ 
 ■"themselves on the hospitality of the.'^" ' " "" 
 place. The Forest was not only free, jtJ 
 
 *^3 
 
 
 mrgl themselves on the hospitality of the^^^^f ^i^ £| 
 ™F r-.M'^''l; olace. The Forest was nnt r.nI^7 *♦.»<,'' '^!^,'<*./v s^^ 
 
 ^.^ to every comer, but it evidently gave,''>^ 
 
 f ■'^*C''^iP peculiar pleasure to those who were'ti'i:^, 
 
 ili«^S-ii ^^^^"^ ^" ^* *° convey a sense of owner- !^l ^^ 
 
 plif^v'ilSi ^^P *° *^°s^ ^^° were arriving for 'J, 
 
 i||tL^'-'-v"-;'iv;| *^2 fi^st time. Rosalind declared thatJ^ 
 
 *^'-'' 's;:;jv:0J^ she felt as much at home as if she 
 
 V i^^ljhad been born there; and she added 
 
 , w3!j that she was glad she had brought 
 
 is|i ; r ■ iv i| °"^y the dress she wore. I was a|, 
 
 ||fe|i|i little puzzled by the last remark; it .1 ., r^ 
 
 «^P^ seemed not entirely logical. But lif \j I fm 
 
 , JjfLi^iM|saw presently that she was expressing }*VW '^''Jii 
 
 ^Pf^M *^^ ^^"owship of the place, which for-L;< ^P 
 
 ■1^1 mm ^^^2 that one should possess anything If^sT-a 
 
 |Mf«that was not in use, and that, therein ".J^; 3 
 
 Immhl^' I ^°^^' w^s not adding constantly to the' fr [.# 
 
 < /'i^r 
 
 common stock of pleasure. Concerning 
 
 d the feeling of having been born in| ^rp 
 ^1 Arden, I became convinced later thatl^^ fe 
 
 there was good reason for believing.; ,'|^.| 
 
 3° 
 
 
 'n. 
 
 , ^Y 
 
 
 iS 
 
4k, 
 
 
 
 
 
 that everybody who loved the place |?,''^;J'K?''S 
 
 had been born there, and that this fact ^^4^'"^ 
 
 ' ' ' which came Ms^'flll" 
 
 only place fepiif^^ 
 
 Hj to me and to everybody else at the ll^^if^flll,, 
 
 Qsame time; in which I felt no alien ^MjJIM 
 
 influence. In our own home I had *^^'™--'^^^^'^ 
 
 i'^'^l^liiiil ^°"^^*^"8^ o^ the same feeling, but 
 ili3ii«i w^sn I looked from a window or set 
 Ppf III foot from a door I was instantly op- 
 Hg pressed with a sense of foreign owner- 
 ship. In the great world how little 
 could I call my own! Only a few 
 feet of soil out of the measureless land- 
 scape; only a few trees and flowers 
 out of all that boundless foliage! I 
 seemed driven out of the heritage to 
 which I was born; cheated out of my 
 birthright in the beauty of the field and WS^ii 
 the mystery of the Forest ; put off with 
 the beggarly portion of a younger son 
 
 "mm 
 
 
 i 
 
 n 
 
 i 
 
 \^n 
 
 t ' 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 •.'^v=-.*.tt.ia:3j^^.- ■ 
 

 h 
 
 I!ik'- 
 
 when I ought to have fallen heir to ^^' ^ 
 the kingdom. My chief joy was that 
 from the little space I called my own 
 I could see the whole heavens ; no 
 man could rob me of that splendid 
 vision. 
 
 ■m '" Arden, however, the question of 
 
 I ownership never comes into one's 
 
 |l thoughts; that the Forest belongs to 
 
 „, ...J yo" gives you a deep joy, but there 
 
 '^i^feV'M,E^ '? ^ ^^fPf ^°y i" th« consciousness 
 
 lili;. W that it belongs to everybody else. .,™ 
 
 iiiBM! The sense of freedom, which comes g/ 
 
 as strongly to one in Arden as the 
 
 smell of the sea to one who has made 
 
 m a long journey from the inland, hints, 
 
 lilKSjki \ ^"PP°s^' ^t the offence which makes mmmmmmm 
 
 IIR f i dwellers within its boundaries out- iMmmi 
 
 illll: i' ^°^ °"^ ^^^^°" °^ another, they ifq |i||? 
 
 iil"'n "^^e ^^^ revolted against the rule oflS t\)£iill 
 
 ||^ have all revolted against the rule of 
 '^ the world, and the world has cast 
 ,j,, them out. They have offended smug 
 f ,j respectability, with its passionless de- 
 
 -^^-uuiHnHr»,„(Trrfn)< 
 
 «MiM\ik LAi..i^\inu.:'''' ' |/j,( 
 
 E 
 
 Mki 
 
Ml I, ''« 'v\-«J 
 
 ^•^M 
 
 
 ''4iw 
 
 ^^*!I99a 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^.^^^iS<'^>^|votion to deportment; they have out- 
 *1:»>';.Mit;yl raged conventional usage, that carefully 
 Ideviswd system by which small natures 
 attempt to bring great ones down to 
 their own dimensions; they have scan- 
 j dalised the orthodoxy which, like Mem- 
 I non, has lost the music of its morning, 
 [and marvels that the world no longe 
 listens; they have derided venerable 
 prejudices, — those ugly relics by which 
 'some men keep in remembrance their 
 I barbarous ancestry; they have refused 
 1 to follow flags whose battles were won 
 or lost ages ago ; they have scorned to 
 compromise with untruth, to go with ^ 
 
 the crowd, to acquiesce in evil ''for the S ^W^'^4i 
 I good of the cause," to speak when they WK'Sf^ffi 
 ought to keep silent, and to keep silent ^-^"^-^^"^ 
 when they ought to speak. Truly the 
 lists of sins charged to the account of 
 Arden is a long one, and were it not 
 J that the memory of the world, concerned 
 n chiefly with the things that make for % 
 
 'm::M 
 
 ■ ■iK ^■itf,JJ'kl B'li'! - . • ■ ''"-i 
 
 i 
 
 i.i 
 
 !i| 
 
 HiMMMiiiMii 
 
M 
 
 M 
 
 ^1^ 
 
 w 
 
 Wfr 
 
 m 
 
 its Comfort, is a short one, it would go SllS^^ll 
 ill with the lovers of the Forest. More 
 than once it has happened that some 
 offender has suffered so long a banish- 
 ment that he has taken permanent 
 refuge in Arden, and proved his citi- fj[ 
 zenship there by some act worthy of \ M 
 its glorious privileges. In the Forest 
 
 one comes constantly upon traces of ks'!5?/|f Wi 
 
 IK 
 
 J those who, Ii*:e Dante and Milton, have 
 III found there a refuge from the Philis- l^t?; 
 ftinism of a world that often hates its Pfoi 
 
 children in exact proportion to their 
 
 K 
 
 fi 
 
 ability to give it light. For the most [F^'k// 
 part, however, the outlaws who frequent feiw^^ 
 the Forest suffer no longer banishment r%>%J. 
 j than that which they impose on them- wl^tjd P 
 selves. They come and go at their * ^ ^^^ ' - 
 ._. own sweet will; and their coming, I "'^ ax,^^- kj 
 m suspect, is generally a matter of their f/if^V^'^''.' 
 ' tei own choosing. The world still loves ,j^"^ 
 ^ i| darkness more than light; but it rarely JJr , 
 ?M nowadays falls upon the lantern-bearer I'^ffr^fi^V 
 
 „^.^»l 
 
 
 34 
 
 
 
 r: 
 
 m 
 
 HSi' 
 
 m 
 
 a\ II I 
 
 !l] 
 
\\ 
 
 ^ 
 
 l:L 
 
 lii 
 
 
 
 
 if\.-j^S^k^ and beats the life out of him, as in fc'^iifX'^^^^^ 
 Wj^:^.tg " the good old times." The world has ^^T^f^^-Si 
 
 
 ilPi^^^ where it once stoned ; it rejects and MiM 
 
 ^1 
 
 ^^.™Jij scorns where it once beat and burned, ^^^^^r 
 J1||H And so Arden has become a refuge, ||~"^ 
 "^ ' ' and 
 
 ^^^BT i«miTr»i "°* ^° much from persecution , 
 
 It'SlKll'ii*^^'! hatred as from ignorance, indifference 
 ig?i'»lM)g and the small wounds or small minds 
 SPiffl bent upon stinging that which 
 
 ll 
 
 ?M 
 
 minds 
 they 
 
 ?ii^ 
 
 w. 
 
 Wh 
 
 SK" 
 
 
 ill 
 
 WWin-'ltltljilimft 
 
 tl'4,ri^ 
 
 
 "^tlE^ 
 
 35 
 
 # 
 
 :v^ 
 
 j^-<?;i 
 
 -./^ 
 
 ^sS^^ 
 
 i'^ 
 
 i;i.tiitii 
 
 ,:iii;;i 
 ^%^ 
 
 i:J 
 
miCZ'luT^ SKaSelHmiM 
 
 m 
 
IV 
 
 . . Fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the 
 golden world 
 
 
 M 
 
 V' 
 
 
 U 
 
 M 
 
 <t k\ 
 

 t! 
 
 
 ml 
 
 m 
 
 iir,.'fil " 
 
 ml, 
 
i^ 
 
 !'■ it|iIWol!l 
 
 j,-i*ip 
 
 Rosalind and I have alvays been 
 planning to do a great many pleasant 
 things when we had more time. Dur- 
 ing the busy days when we barely 
 found opportunity to speak to each 
 other we were always thinking of the 
 better days when we should be able to 
 sit hours together with no knock at the 
 door and no imperative summons from 
 the kitchen. Some man of sufficient 
 iffi''PCf4 ^"^^"2*^ce to give his words currency 
 ■' ii'Sll'li °"8^^* *° define life as a series of inter- 
 tihiitei.'i! ruptions. There are a good many 
 valuable and inspiring things which 
 can only be done when one is in the 
 mood, and to secure a mood is not 
 always an easy matter; there are 
 moods which are as coy as the most 
 high-spirited woman, and must be 
 wooed with as much patience and 
 tact: and when the illusive prize is 
 
 |J)iiu.3i 
 
 Mpiii'iiiii, 
 
 gained, one holds it by the frailest ten- y^lf^ljiiliilil'ti' 
 
 ure. An interruption diverts the cur 
 
 ii^ 
 
 <f.:':'\. 
 
 IW 
 
 J..iiiUl|h;f|C.«rtf 
 
 ilMlllffli MfMiimrtnir-" ftsm 
 
 i 
 
 V d 
 
 i'l^ 
 
 \ >i 
 
 5C-~aB~~-»- 
 
;* ■' 
 
 ii^K-^'i^i^^' cuts the golden thread, breaks | i;U-">| 
 ^»^:ajf-7^the exquisite harmony. I have often k4'^^ t 
 r>^-v3/'i^ thought that Dante was far less unfor- fi^FW^ 
 
 5^ V''^'^^ n "*""S'" "i**i i^diue was lar less unior- fl '^'•tr^'vF ^ 
 ,<''yS{k~'V| *""^*^ *^^" *^^ wo^^^ has judged him |'> -'itvl 
 I, ;'-#:Jto be. If he had been courted and Vp^^"^-'! 
 
 I vf^ ^*^''°^"^^ ^"^*^^^ °^ rejected and exiled, r ^- - 1 
 
 I'^'B^^-i would have missed the conditions which | llM'^| I 
 i &(il^ % g^ve it immortal utterance. Left to him- i SflS. I 
 m^md self, he had only his own nature to feltM 
 »■ ^:,5tf:^ reckon with; the world passed him by, fc-^^^'-'^^ 
 W^"H^^^^ ^"^ ^*^^^ ^^"^ *° *h^ companionship of his »ui' :^'w'|{S 
 
 S^^>' "7l ^"^^^"^^ ^'■'^ ^^"^ dreams. To be left ffifi^i;,'^^!: 
 i^*v-C\>^>J alone with nnp's sf»lf <« nff^r. +^<, t^i^U^o* sS?'^ : "''??^:N .i":i 
 
 l«?fTV 
 
 m 
 
 ■ '^^■W-'/m^-^ "^ '^' ""-^^ '-roeme, never rest and never m^im m^m 
 ^■'^^^^$:4 ^^^^^' complete their work and escape ^mtei 
 P<?1?^- the friction of it. 8fc^^# 
 
 
 .'ll 
 

 
 
 
 00 
 <0 
 
 
 
 
 
 111 J^™ vm m 
 
 a^: 
 
 ',-Wi''"'-i.i?L.®;^! 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 l&:kk 
 
 m 
 
 w. 
 
 Pf/i'P 
 
 about life in Arden is the absence of! 
 
 any sense of haste; life is a matter of|f 
 
 being rather than of doing, and one,' 
 
 shares the tranquillity of the great trees | 
 
 ^■^'i'l that silently expand year by year. The | 
 
 Mjj|i| ^ver and restlessness are gone, the f 
 
 mm ^°"8^ st**^^" "^ "^''ve and will relaxed ; '^ 
 
 mm'mm 
 
 SO many things that I sometimes almost ||||li';V<^-'^ 
 , Ipst sight of her for days together, found W^Ji^^ 
 
 il^iStime to take long walks with me, toW^p2lpli 
 jfS| watch the birds and the clouds, and |S;,,Jii 
 
 ■ I Ki*^^^ ^^ *^^ ^°"^ ^^°"* ^^^ manner oim(l%^m 
 'kmflm^^^^^^ *^^I2S. I came to feel, after a SMi%«S 
 |MJ^- 3j time, that just what I anticipated would I^'^^^Sm 
 " a'"'^| happen in Arden had happened. I was |:S^^ir' < 
 
 , Ji%^'| fast becoming acquainted with her. We Off lP.l« 
 mt fe^^^P^*^* ^^y^ together in the most delight- Kii Mu\J., 
 l5^^^&a^ and half-silent fellowship: iflMSlS 
 
 
 IATm I 
 
 •( 
 
 > 
 
 :' 
 
 v,< 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 
'^'■■if^ff-f^^e^.s^i^miSi 
 
 t!{;'. 
 
 
 
 
 ■"■'««.n:W^, 
 
 '><?'- 
 
 I'iSi''- 
 
 'm 
 
 ^ 
 
 is'^M^rii 
 
 Uli'iunl 
 
 , ,.,.1i^"'"'^')l&«ii«^.«^''''**^^ 
 
 '^«i 
 
 iisiin*^ 
 
 
 ./, 
 
 Ml"'' ' 
 
 '■'■■Hi. ."^. '(1- 
 
 
 Vr 
 
 
 
 an impertinence, Pi!p!g^ 
 nder the spell of «M 
 
 P'^iifi^^';' - ' i where talk seemed 
 jt 'i',?-' '''■''• v!i ^"^ we were silent under 
 5|i|^^''-'-i^^'i| f^^stling leaves and thrilling melodies 
 i|f'?^* '';i^^' •' coming from we knew not what hid- 
 lli^ii i- 'i den minstrelsy. But whether silent or 
 ft|t% C. . y '^1 speaking, we were fast coming tc know 
 |||fagf:if':;^:'^| each other. I saw many traits in her, 
 " ^^1^] ■:.:;''/. .r^'^ many characteristic habits and move- 
 |5|^g|i,ii| ments which I had never noted before; 
 °*w and I was conscious that she was mak- 
 I ing similar discoveries in me. These 
 mutual revelations absorbed us dur- 
 ing our first days in the Forest; 
 and they confirmed the impression 
 which I brought with me that half 
 the charm of people is lost under the 
 pressure of work and the irritation 
 of haste. We rarely know jur best 
 
 i 
 
 m: 
 
 w. 
 

 
 
 S 
 
 ('^^>-^ 
 
 
 flfcii 
 
 i'*i 
 
 
 
 fSy^i ° *^'^' "°^^'^t ^^^^^s «s constantly iS;'-? 
 ^'*^M':Jl!, obscured by the mists of preoccupation '^^'^^^^'i- 
 and weariness. 
 
 In Arden, life is pitched on the natural Eii'i^'i'i 
 
 1 fcr' nVTfirl ^*«cii, mc is> piicnea on tne natural ti «*--■■■■ #i 
 
 m^mii^'^' "^^^'^y '^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^j ^^obody ipbimI 
 
 f^(!&}tf>:is ever interrupted; nobody carries his B Pl?|l 
 'r^^,--- ■'y:;:;^^' work like a pack on his back instead ^■^^^^^mi 
 |/:,^K>..::.^:;;; of leaving it behind him as the sun \:'f': \'^% 
 iM:'. \ :''i... leaves the earth when the day is over &\^mMi 
 iMiMj^f^, *^^ ^^^"^ ^tars shine in the un- Pf 
 ift^lfef !■'-':-' ^' , " ^^^^''^^^ °^ *^^ sky. Rosalind te£ ; 
 
 P lir-''>4-^"'^ } ^'^^^ ^"*^'^^y conscious of the #'' 
 
 |^;|l(!jiliili!^4/ transformation going on within us, and ^'-'t ■^m, 'iH:^^ 
 
 ill. ' '-.were not slow to submit ourselves to 
 iiSl&M '^^ beneficent influence. We felt that 
 liyilliliArden would not put all its resources 
 i|| into our hand until we had shaken 
 III off the dust and parted from the fret 
 
 15 °^ *^^ ^°^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ behind. 
 
 im . ^" *bose first inspiring days we went 
 
 Ijli oftenest to the heart of the pines, where 
 
 f'i the moss crr^xjj sn Ae>or\ tU^t /-,.... .^«,.-» 
 
 „,,.fcltt 
 
 the moss grew so deep that our move- iW"^ «ii^. ^ 
 
 
 "i yl 
 
 ',. f^ 
 
 ;' 
 
 ^)l 
 
 1^ 
 
I'ii 
 
 
 
 
 if k|;*^ ■ vi "^snts were noiseless ; where the light fell | 
 [Ci>*;^^4ijfc Jl *" subdued and gentle tones among the 
 ^'irj(U>!^^>^ .M closely clustered trees; and where no 
 ^^'''ii^Vj sound ever reached us save the organ 
 
 k;|| music of the great boughs when the ^^., 
 wind evoked their sublime harmonies. |"-;>iS^ 
 Many a time, as we have sat silent 
 while the toner of that majestic sym- 
 phony rose and fell about us, we seemed 
 to become a part of the scene itself; we 
 felt the unfathomed depth of a music 
 produced by no conscious thought, 
 §v'^ wrought out by no conscious toil, but 
 akin, in its spontaneity and natural- 
 ness, with the fragrance of the flower. 
 And with these thrilling notes there 
 came to us the thought of the calm, 
 i-eposeful, irresistible growth of Nature; 
 never hasting, never at rest; the silent 
 ifitlE^fi spreading of the tree, the steady burn- 
 ing of the star, the noiseless flow of the I 
 *^^"'* river! Was not this sublime uncon- - 
 
 <^wi 
 
 
 ^. 
 
 ft 
 
 
 
 iiiAiii<ii!irililluiiMiiilliiiiii,i;ii;iiilii^iiiiy|JipA 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
'PPI'!' 
 
 S'?" ... 
 
 /h 'MS-'* 
 
 
 Jitiiiiiiiiiiiiii!iiiiiiiiiiiyilji 
 
 :i«:5^7-; 
 
 
 
 -C^^: 
 
 & 
 
 Ik 
 
 priation of eternity, something we had'y^| 
 missed all our lives, and, in missing ffv-^'^:,,!! 
 It, had lost our birthright of quiet hours,; '''<n*^P 
 calm thought, sweet fellowship, ripen- , ^ ^ ^^ '"^ " 
 ing character? The fever and tumuIt|'U)4 
 of the world we had left were discordsj'i.'^ 
 in a strain that had never yielded itslL, 
 music before. 
 
 
 
 For nature beats in perfect tone. 
 And rounds with rhyme her every rune. 
 Whether she work in land or sea. 
 Or hide undergfround her alchemy. 
 Thou canst not wave thy staff in air. 
 
 Or dip thy paddle in the lake. 
 But it carves the bow of beauty there, w*^ 
 
 And the ripples in rhymes the oars for-|fe?"''^>lgp| 
 
 After one of these long, delicious! 
 
 i ■'■. V 
 
 wixw wi uicac luiig, aeiiciouSi?r«j?ftfj 
 
 days in the heart of the pines, Rosalind ^^kmt^ 
 slipped her hand in mine as we walked |5^#^^^- 
 |M slowly homeward. L'^ 
 
 M " This is the first day of my life,'^! 
 '^M she said. '0 
 
 
 4i 
 
 
 
 '.^"'•^V .J."'^^'..'. 
 
 ^' ' IIIIPIII /\ ^ \\ 
 
 
 :1i 
 
 ', (' 
 
 • 
 
 f 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 t i' 
 
 I' 
 
ftfvmaS 
 
 I' 
 
 And th.s our life, exempt from public haunt, 
 Fmds tongues in trees, books in the rum>ing brooks, 
 :«rmons in stones, and good in everything 
 
 J ^Ift%^ 
 
 Ua 
 
 
 ^Ww:^^ 
 
 m^^' 
 ^'&^. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 k 
 
M 
 
 '> 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 fil 
 

 M 
 
 /■ 
 
 .'^^mexp€:.ence -vhen he sees it by the light !bl^«8J 
 m± new d.v Such mornings are not fe|^ 
 P|unc.T;non n. Arden, where the nightly kf'W 
 m dews . o.k a perpetual miracle of Lsh- LjI. 
 mmxl "'f ^"^ t^s particular morning we 
 |ii«|had strayed Icmg and far, the Jence 
 
 P IIMf"'* '"^^*"^' °f the woods luring us 
 iF^ii hour after hour with unspoken prorLs^s 
 ^WMmm^ *^' imagination. We had come at 
 P^^»' "^ *° ^ P^^'^^ ^° secluded, so re- „ 
 mote from stir and sound, that one f 
 might dream there of the sacredness of 
 ancient oracles and the revels of ancient 
 gods. 
 
 Rosalind had gathered wild flowers 
 along the way, and sat at the base of 
 a great tree intently dii^entangling her 
 treasures. With that figure before me, 
 I thought of nearer and more sacred 
 
 %• 
 
 wHim 
 
 ■4 
 
 n 
 
I ir''i"'S B£?arTrirfiiTaiMW BMiB 
 
 111 !l 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 ;. 
 
 ^^'''■'iii!i(iiniiL'^>^ 
 
 
 
 i'™'-^ 
 
 iMi& 
 
 
 
 
 il: .■';iV''^< 
 
 
 
 things than the old woodland gods that S« 
 might have strayed that way centuries Ipfe' ^"^ 
 ago; I had no need to recall the van- 
 ished times and faiths to interpret the 
 spirit of an hour so far from the com- 
 monplaces of human speech, so free 
 from the passing moods of human life. 
 If The sweet unconsciousness of that face, 
 bent over the mass of wild flowers, and 
 akin to them in its unspoiled loveliness, 
 
 *y' .fl! 
 
 V-'C-'^ij^ , 
 
 I 
 
 ,.,''|f| was to that hour and place like the f:||l| 
 Ll'iiilp^ illuminated capital in the old missal; a '^iik'^. 
 ^^'t^fkM ray of colour which unlocked the dark pjj| 
 
 ']^ mystery of the text. When one can mm 
 
 see the loveliness of a wild flower, [||j|| 
 and feel the absorbing charm of its^^"t'«'^ 
 sentiment, one is not far from the 
 kingdom of Nature. 
 
 As these fancies chased one another 
 across my mind, lying there at full 
 length on the moss, I, too, seemed to 
 
 Klii 
 
 ill 
 
 
 lose all consciousness that I had «ver piiiiaiiii,™,.™.-, 
 touched life at any point than thio, orljS^'^fe^^^ 
 
 so 
 
 H'^t 
 
 W^iM 
 
 ''■'■mni'Miri 
 
 W"" J' 
 
 iimliui'iiiiii 
 
 ^wA. 
 
 ^x 
 

 ^iili 
 
 
 ^1 -i:4 
 
 '\ mw 
 
 ^k 
 
 ^^-• tit '^ i-< 
 
 
 ^1 that any other hour h?; 1 ever pressed 
 y . .w' i ^*^ ^"P °^ experience to my lips. The 
 P*» B great world of which I was once part 
 
 
 i. 
 
 i 
 
 disappeared out of memory like a mist ,, 
 that recedes into a faht cloud and lies k 
 faint and far on the boundaries of the 
 day; my own personal life, to which 
 I had been bound by such a multitude I 
 of gossamer threads that when I tried | 
 to unloose one I seemed to weave a SI 
 hundred in its place, seemed to sink 
 below the surface of consciousness. I ^^"■. r 
 ceased to think, to feel; I was conscious »i^'^'^ j^ 
 only of the vast and glorious world of W^i^^tiM 
 tree and sky which surrounded me. I ^*Pir*^V?<^ 
 felt a thrill of wonder that I should be ^^S^i^ 
 SO placed. I had often Iain thus under W^^i^fff^ 
 other trees, but never in such a mood ^^;^S^ 
 as this. It was as if I had detached 
 
 . myself from the hitherto unbroken cur- P» p-i^ 
 
 5 rent of my personal life, and by some S^@l 
 
 miracle of that marvellous place become ^W^" 
 
 
 -^K miracle ot that marvellous place become ■ '?«^lfi 
 ^ part of the inarticulate life of Nature. 'f(£M'^M 
 
 
 fj 
 
 MJ»J 
 
V 
 
 a 
 
 III 
 
 4 
 
 i 
 
 ^^Im^iJ^^Clouds and trees, dim vistas of shadow 
 
 |>»y]§'' and flower-starred space of sunlight, 
 
 if^uXS ', "^^^^ ^o longer alien to me ; I was 
 
 J i^^W'^iJtte^^" ^^*^ *^^ ^^^^ ^"^ ^^^^^* movement 
 ^ tf/ WiY'^o^ things which encompassed me. No Ivi w* 
 ^|,f ? |new sound came to me, no new sight 
 UViJbroke on my vision; but I heard with 
 iplSears, and I saw with eyes, to which all |?' 
 ^ other sounds and sights had ceased to 
 ^be. I cannot translate into words the ^S 
 ^mystery and the thrill of th?.t hour I 
 
 '4S' 
 
 I 
 
 f 1 f!P 
 
 mit. 
 
 ■^isift;; 
 
 IIP felt, what I saw and heard, belong only 
 "flrlto that place; outside the Forest of 
 JwglArden they are incomprehensible. It is 
 -'^sM enough to say that I had parted with 
 y-^ J all my limitations, and freed myself from 
 f^lflall my bonds of habit and ignorance 
 ?«Mand prejudice; I was no longer worn 
 glf^l mi'frand spent with work and emotion and 
 §m$^^i&4 in^F^ession ; I was no longer prisoned 
 
 52 
 
 )>«*§ 
 
 HI 
 
 Wfit]nuihit, 
 
 I 
 

 m ^f 
 
 m^ ^f^ 
 
 
 ^f:-4 
 
 
 
 ifilKllilili»l|h 
 
 ■fi I 
 
 ' JH*>- 
 
 «>«i 
 
 '■,*« 
 
 'V 
 
 ft.^:; iS';^ 
 
 
 '^^H 
 
 
 m 
 
 \M 
 
 P 
 
 mn 
 
 i M 
 
 ^'Is^ 
 
 :•' r': 
 
 |||||?^>^ were an inalienable and universal pc^s- 
 K\'^:-:^^^^^' I ciid not speculate about the 
 §i i;fl'l!8^^^^* fleecy clouds that moved like 
 ^^^i| galleons in the ethereal sea above me- 
 
 ^Si;':' -'if ~ — 7 ft '-"^^'"srti j»ed aoove me; 
 
 iiiiBiiP T^^ 'V^'^' 't'**^^ ^"^"*y^ t^^ 
 
 ^^P mdianc/ o. their unchecked movement, 
 
 '^^iil ^he freedom and splendour of the inex- 
 
 '"1 haustible play of iL'e of which they were 
 
 *part. I asked no questions cf myself 
 
 about the great trees that wove the 
 
 garments of the magical forest about 
 
 me; I felt the stir of their ancient life, 
 
 rooted in the centuries that had left no 
 
 \WM ^^^°^^ ^" *^^* P^^^^ ^^"^ *^^ ^^^^^ girth 
 and the discarded leaf; I had no thought 
 
 \f 
 
 'i 
 
 S3 
 
 it Hua. 
 
 4I1, 
 
 '^%i : 
 
 mk 
 
 maii'' 
 
 I 
 
 Vil. 
 
hSMi 
 
 f(V 
 
 ',i 
 
 about the bird whose note thrilled the gSS 
 
 F^^M^silSf ^f?* ^^^ *^^ ^^P*"^^ o* pouring out 
 M|« without measure or thought tU joy 
 
 ilkilil'' *^* was in me r I felt the vast irresis- 
 tible movemeni of life rolling, wave 
 after wave, out of the unseen seas be- 
 ;j yond, obliterating the faint divisions by m 
 '/.y-'mMi y^^^' ^ t^s working world, we count f^ 
 M'^i^^'"^ *^^ ^^ys of our toil, and making all the h 
 fte iii^l^^^^lii ages one unbroken growth; I felt th^ ^'" 
 W::him '?^^"''^^ss ^^^' the sublime repose, of 
 
 lEI 
 
 iik'f^te 
 
 i 
 
 iiw ^"" "^ ^*^ *^^^^ ^"^ sets the stars 
 ■Bli *° "^^^^ *^^ boundaries of its way. wjipiiiiiijifii 
 '" ' Unbroken repose, unlimited growth, PBIw^^^^ 
 inexhaustible life, measureless force, un- Ifclpili 
 iiiiiiti'T^-^ searchable beauty- who shall feel these iX'%mM 
 III J things and not know that there are no lllliiii 
 Imii words for them! And yet in Arden l^f K 
 BilW *^^y ^^^ P^^* ^^ every man^s life I iiifOfl 
 
 ^■"■■■■■wwiiiWiiiit^^^ 
 
 

 mm, 
 
 
 
 
 iw 
 
 r^^ 
 
 ■'^Q_.- 
 
 ^m ^t'^"* *^^ venerable tree, as one would 
 i.! bind the fancy of the hour to some 
 '^ eternal truth. 
 
 '' Yesterday/' she added, as she sat f | 
 down again and shook the stray leaves f \ 
 and petals from her lap — '* yesterday 
 was the first day of my life t to-day is 
 the second." 
 
 It is one of the delights of Arden^.™^ , . 
 that one does not need to put his whole P '^%.. f'' 
 
 \€k 
 
 ^im^s 
 
 m 
 
 thought into words there; half the need gv^'L>^f>1 
 
 of language vanishes when we say only .«~. 
 what we mean, and what we say is f$f 
 heard with sympathy and intelligence. '^' 
 Rosalind and I were thinking the same 
 thought. Yesterday we had dt5: -overed 
 that an open mind, freedom from work fWP-'liM:' 
 and care and turmoil, make it possible ''S^-^vW 
 for people to be their true selves i^nd to ^'^iif W.. ' 
 
 i™ % 
 
 
 iiiimiisiw&SttyilliH 
 
 ~,-<m^ 
 
 
 
 ir'«fH--~'.'.|;'<?-<.' 
 
 
 M^-^■^^■ 
 
i; 
 
 L^ 
 
 m 
 
 |Bp"'W>j^^vTknow each other. To-day v/e had J 
 iHri,-' „A.^ discoveted that nature reveak herself 
 only to the open jrmd find heart: lo 
 all others she is deaf anj dumb 
 worldling who seeks hei- neve" seeii so f) 
 
 K"^ 
 
 I much as the hem of her garment; the 
 egotist, the self engrossed man, searches 
 ' m vain for her counsel and consolation ; £ iK^^^Ji 
 t'le over-anxious, fretful soul finds her &AyJ'^^|^LMii 
 
 \A 
 
 indifferent and incomn'.tmicable. We 
 ^ may seek her far and wide, with minds |l 
 intent upon other things, and she will m 
 forever elude us; but on the morning ' 
 j^^f|we open our windows with a free mind, 
 I she is there to break for us the seal 
 pSit/Jher treasures, and to pour out the per- l%4|fl^%'^^' 
 J fume of her flowers. She is cold, re- ^^SW*^^- 
 kmote, inaccessible only so long as wcl^t>^^^, 
 vi close the doors of our hearts and minds f/^^^^Si 
 [Y^^^^to her. With the drudges and slaves ^^j^fe, 
 [ l/^>it(^'|of mere getting and saving she has| j/^^' 
 ik" ^'1 nothing in common ; but with those W 
 
 ' d who hold their souls above the price £| 
 
 56 i 
 
 
 liMiJn'l uWiir) 
 
The. V£^> 
 
 ^ ^ i Jl 
 the bj 
 
 ches || ^' 
 
 Will Is i'!' if I 
 
 ■^^4 7 aAI . 
 
 ^(' 
 
 I 
 
 '•I 
 
 ill 
 
 i 
 
''« 
 
 J''- 
 
 ., i 
 
 
 \h 
 
 
 
 
 ■•r V 
 
 
if 
 
 ,-< 
 
 M 
 
 >'•■ 
 
 It" 
 
 If 
 
 u' 
 
 ! if 
 
 % .. 
 
VI 
 
 Here feel we out the penalty of Adam, 
 The season's difference, as the icy fang 
 And churlish chiding of the winter wind, 
 Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say. 
 This is no flattery: these are counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am 
 
 -^f* 
 
 l*-T-». 
 
 %M. 
 
 \ 
 
 m 
 
 >i;'^ssi?* 
 
 M 
 
 ■<?^ 
 
k 
 
 :ji 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 vfc 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 V 
 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 ,'j 
 
 l( lit:' 
 
 
 ^^. 
 
he ideal conditions of life, of which feg^jfi^^J^p^^ 
 of us dream, could be realised, the jii%f ^ *iS' I* j 
 
 jtmd nthe 
 
 1 most of us aream, couia De reaiisea, tne p'j^^^i^f'^'^f ^^ 
 
 I result would be a padded and luxurious W'^-i!'W"T^^^ 
 
 I existence, well-housed, well-fed, well- |(|l?.S--%v :'^f: 
 
 j dressed, with all the winds of heaven |ii;-S-"^;^;>^':'J| 
 
 jl tempered to indolence and cowardice. ,ii'ji!|^' ^'4?il! 
 
 y,i™;,-;i :^,:J| against the comforts that flattered the ij,.,.,:,.„|., ■,:.,,. ,■,,■. 
 
 Ii|^'''''|f ,1 body while they ignored the soul. In [^^'■-'''H 
 
 |||l^|j||||Arden there is no such compromise p&,f:;:;,.,Ji^i:|| 
 
 ■' " '"""Ijlpwith our immoral desires to get results t.;.|:|:ji;i5i''':!l'^'- !;ii 
 
 ''■■'' without work, to buy without paying p!p||4!;;liS|j4 
 
 for what we receive. Nature keeos lM:iMMK^\'J 
 
 no running accounts and suffers no f^r-f ^1:2 f:'' 
 
 I for what we receive. Nature keeps 
 no running accounts and suffers no 
 man to get in her debt ; she deals with 
 
 
 '^f]i us on the principles of immutable right 
 
 ^^ ^.JvJ eousness; she treats us as her equals, Mi^py-^.^y 
 h:!i(J!llfl and demands from us an equivalent for I .fe'^i'l .Ak 
 ^ every gift or grace of sight or sounder ;;|" 
 she bestows. She rejects contemptu- ; :,' ,/' v'^'i 
 ously the advances of the weaklings h, p' '''f^^^fi 
 
 :m 
 
 I 
 
ii'ii 
 
 \i:. 
 
 I? 1 } 
 
 
 
 1 1 , 
 
 
 fe ^^'^ /' )! "^^° aspire to become her beneficiaries I *i^ ^«» . 
 
 A^^';;ff r; r*^°"* ^''^^ "^^^^ ^°^^ *^'^' ^^^^ S-^^^S^v^ 
 
 ^f V< 'Nj by some service or self-denial; she re- l| J;*"/ j«# ^ 
 'A^^ i wards those only who, like herself, find 
 ^ ^ J music in the tempest as well as in the 
 / '"^1 summer wind ; joy in arduous service 
 'W I ^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^" careless ease. A world 
 f ^ "^ which there were no labours to be 
 > 4^M i accomplished, no burdens to be borne, m» kw"M^ 
 ^ ^' "'M no storms to be endured, would be a »iSi^B 
 J, world without true joy, honest pleasure, fewll 
 W^i^'/klor noble aspiration. It would be a ^S^^^ 
 kS. vk' ^1 food's paradise. ^-^'A^ ' 
 
 Pn;')^^^ The Fo.est of Arden is not without WCil, 
 
 (L, uT''^ ^^™ ^*^ changes of weather and season. P'tp/** ^"^^ 
 ^'''"^tU Rosalind and I had fancied that it was fe i^if^fd 
 \y^li^ always summer there, and that sunlight ^K^'^^''''^ 
 
 
 I 
 
 TO 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 fang of winter is felt there, we should /i>*^ \'Hl 
 
 reigned from year's end to year's end; 
 if we had been told that storms some- 
 times overshadowed it, and that the icy 
 
 have doubted the report. ' We had a J>^f^Ji|| 
 good deal to learn when we first went 
 
 62 iv a 
 
 li r.^ m 
 
 
 f^^m ... 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 ■l7i«' 
 
 "■K,!, 
 
 ' /<' 
 

 If..- •pry 
 
 
 'If''/ '- 
 
 ?*>3 Si 
 
 
 
 
 '».V'i 
 
 pi' 
 
 i.<'^•*^ 
 
 fjf. 
 
 Lt^'i 
 
 -'-^fi 
 
 f^' 
 
 ^T; 
 
 ^^fii^'^n 
 
 mfii^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 
 « 
 
 fm'K 
 
 r-.,,!^ 
 
 il',i,f(i'' 
 
 rnn 
 
 ml 
 
 fi 
 
 u€ 
 
 I to Arden ; in fact, we still have a great 
 ^jdeal to learn about this wonderful coun- 
 try, in which so many of the ideals and 
 standards with which we wer? once 
 familiar are reversed. It is one of the 
 blessed results of living in the Forest 
 that one is more and more conscious 
 that he does not know, and more and 
 j^vjmore eager to learn. There are no 
 shams of any sort in Arden, and all 
 pride in concealing one's ignorance dis- 
 pif^ appears; one's clidef concern is to be 
 known precisely as he is. We were a 
 little sensitive at first, a little disposed 
 to be cautious about asking questions 
 that might reveal our ignorance; but 
 we speedily lost the false shame we 
 had brought with us from a world 
 where men study to conceal, as a means 
 of protecting, the things that are most 
 i^^pi'scious to them. When we learned 
 that in the Forest nobody vulgarises 
 one's affairs by making them matter 
 
 63 
 
 
 ^, 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 J- 
 
 lf< 
 
 r 
 
 >-<^i 
 
 li^r'^^'i 
 
 'y|^',,fl^4lk^^(| 
 
 'f 
 
 
 iiiiy:il!(|/lil 
 
 M- 
 
 ^ V 
 
i M 
 
 '^'1 
 
 ^^pfwi^J^ of slander and gossip and misinterpreta- ^ 
 
 gP of common talk, that all the meannesses ik '«>l,^ 
 
 vM^li 
 
 m^ tion are unknown, and that charity, W^/V^^ 
 ^[^ courtesy, and honour are the unfailing }]*^^,<; if^ 
 I law of intercourse, we threw down our ^ 
 I reserves and experienced the refreshing .^ 
 ^1 freedom and sympathy of full knowledge E 
 
 between man and man. &iMAL 
 
 w^ After a long succession of golden days 
 Si| ^^ awoke one morning to the familiar 
 Ip^^^i sound of rain on the roof; there was 
 iillljllino mistake about it; it was raining in 
 
 MMArden! Rosalind was so incredt^us 
 lliMthat I could see she doubted if she 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 
 m> 
 
 mu 
 
 were awake; and when she had satis 
 
 fied herself of that fact she began io j^.j^;^J^**r^ 
 
 ask herself whether we had been really 
 
 in the Forest at all; whether we had 
 
 I not been dreaming in a kind of double 
 consciousness, and had now come to 
 
 ;the awakening which should rob us of «™.,^, ,,, 
 this golden memory. At last we recog- 8pS)f ^^ 
 nised the fact that we were still in K'ifiV, 
 
mssm': 
 
 •;.«* 
 
 iM&^ 
 
 "■%!!!> 
 
 
 m 
 
 i: 
 
 i^r 
 
 5;<i<i; 
 
 !;fl''^ 
 
 ISA 
 
 ^^''^'f^*"*" 
 
 PiTiU 
 
 ll^ill'jjl Arden, and that it was raining. It 
 
 f ^i li'Mi was a melancholy awakening, and we 
 
 were silent and depressed at breakfast; 
 
 .IImP ^°^ *^^ ^^^^* *^^^ *^^ ^^^^s sang, and 
 iyjlili "o sunlight flickered through the leaves 
 
 mi W'MM ^^^ brought the day smiling to our ,|^^>|,pn. 
 
 ^mmi v^^y ^Q^^- ^he rain fell steadily, and pK 
 
 : ^:.^^i't||,;if! when the wind swept through the trees fwm 
 ..fi..^: /----r'; a sound like a sob went up from the Siiife 
 
 'i'SN^ 
 
 ,^,ip Forest. After breakfast, for lack of 
 
 f.'^^>"'M^.^^^ ,^^^^^^ we lighted a few 
 
 ffmi ^*^^^^ ^" *^^ ^°"8^^ fireplace, and found 
 i^lililliiiiiF °"^^~^^^^ gradually drawn into the cir- 
 ||W'Wil|ll|,,g cle of cheer in the little room. The 
 *' ' /:*! gf^at world of Nature was for a mo- 
 
 1| no mcongruity in talking about our iP!li| 
 mj own experiences; we recalled the days Mm^''^^ 
 |i|! in the world we had left behind; we ' 
 
 ||^ remembered the faces of our neigh- 
 
 iJl'iiPillf'li ^^^^^* ^^ reminded each other of the 
 P'pf«)l incidents of our journey; we retold, in 
 i;Wilt'^^«vJ f/ishion, the story of our 
 
 ifV^'i)\!lifMn 65 
 
 
 am, 
 
 
 
 'M 
 
I 't 
 
 I ri 
 
 
 
 
 
 W^^^^i '*^^ '"/^^ ^°'''*' ^^ g^^w eloquent I ^U J 
 ^:* '>!f :/ ^\r ^^^^"^^^^ o^e after another, thers '^^J** 
 •— '^ .^ noble persons we had met there; our^| txA' 
 ^ hearts kindled as we became conscious " 
 of the wonderful enrichment and en- 
 largement of life that had come to us; 
 and as the varied splendours of the 
 days and scenes of Arden returned in, 
 our memories, the spell of the Forest- 
 came upon us, and the mysterious 
 cadence of the rain, falling from leaf 
 hU *° ^^^' ^^^^^ another and deeper tone 
 p 1?, *^^ harmony of our Forest life. 
 ^ he gloom had gone; we had all the 
 delight of a new experience in our 
 hearts. ^^ W ^^>^j 
 
 **1 am glad it rains,*' Rosalind said, |!'^t?\t^^' X*''^ 
 as she gave the fire one of her vigor- [\C^^ i* h 
 ous stirrings; ^'I am glad it rains: ifP^^^ 'Vi 
 don't think we should have realised" " ^'' 
 
 how lovely it is here if we were not 
 shut in from time to time. One is 
 
 played upon by so many impressions 
 
 g.nmm 
 
 66 
 
 v*^ ^ 
 
 
 
 '} iT 
 
 1 \-' t5 
 
 
 lii 
 
 

 
 
 'vT'--'-'"' 
 
 
 
 
 ^1 ■K^.i ,5?.!.t,>f ■» .xVi? 
 
 f?^V .lia *'^^I one must escape from them to :£h.. .' 
 m^r:m]T^'^^<^'^ ^ow beautiful they areJl-;!!:? '| 
 
 ,^ ^ ..^ ..w«xu ^i uidi great torest when 
 , . a the storm was abroad. The monotone ' 
 
 -^mr' • ''^'" ^^^^""^ rhythmic with some 
 --"* ancient, primeval melody, which the : -^ 
 
 .1 
 
 
 
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 .i|not the storms and the cold which made 
 ■% °"^ °^^„^^ J^ard, and gave Nature an 
 ,14 unfriendly aspect; ft was the things 
 ;j; ; . r^'"*^ °"^ human experience which gave 
 g^|g, tempest and winter a meaning not their 
 ^■■^^mm own. In a world in which all hearts beat 
 i^^^f fnd all hands were helpful, there 
 -'would be no real hardship in Nature. 
 It IS the loss, sorrow, weariness, and 
 disappointment of life which give dark 
 days their gloom, and cold its icy edge, 
 and work its bitterness. The real sor- 
 rows of life are not of Nature's mak- 
 ing; if faithlessness and treachery and 
 
 68 
 
 
 !V;Sfv\ 
 
 \&n 
 
 li 
 
 ?y'4Cc:. 
 
 Mfin- 
 
 .(,,. 
 
 II 
 
 '>*•■■ '^':f-; 
 
 
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 'lia^^nei 
 

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 sMltet!!!l"i 
 
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 i 
 
 
 every sort of baseness were taken out IJ}^^'^ml 
 I of human lives, we should find only a »» -'^^^^ 
 llll healthy and vigorous joy in such hard- 
 ship as Nature imposes upon us. Upon 
 men of sound, sweet life, she lays only 
 
 mMiti ?,^'7;, ^'^"^^ ^" s° doing it increases R,,,.-^, 
 
 i;-c--^^^^ -The lliralf 
 
 l':r.^'':::^-^;^^#f ^^y '' ^^'^ °"^y ^^^n the mind is pn**! 
 F'i'l^ii^'i- III 1^'K' ^" weathers are pleasant when fe^'i'-l™'*'*'^'^ 
 fc''''l'.!V^^^« the heart is at rest. There 
 
 l(i;;^',!i:ii!i'rfi^"'^irai T" "*"*" ^"^ **^ ^^^^* mere are rainy wfef^: 
 ii%P:^^^ i" Arden, but no gloomy ones^ ll 
 £ ' '^1^^ ^''^ ^^ probably cold days, but none 
 
 |||::^..%Sthatch^^ 
 
 ^!il f. ' ^° ^°t know whether it was Rosa 
 
 iK.::.iai| ^"^d s smile or the sudden breaking of W't 
 
 ™fl;nii th(> sun f^>f«r><.rrti ♦!,« -f l^ xL_, « vi'/> 
 
 I 
 
 pillSi^fl thp sun through the clouds that made U-''A'-'rr^^ 
 irr-; |!,j.| the room brilliant; probably it was IPll'ii'^^'i 
 <<.■.]...■'_,■.■,' );!j both. Rosalind opened the lattice, and rail-^l^ 
 V ^v v^ I saw that the rain had ceased. The F' ^'' '1,, 
 
 drops still hung on every leaf, but the |i'J|J|l 
 
 ^at shining fp'iM 
 
 U!^i'^:;-^,*sf''.< clouds 
 
 u 
 
 ij'i'Rfc 
 
 i'lid 
 
 were breaking into 
 
 69 
 
 ^■'^:t! 
 
 iiiiip . 
 
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 st,>H 
 
 IllnmJfe ' 
 
 
 
 
 
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 masses, and the blue of the sky was 
 
 of unsearchable purity and depth. The 
 
 sun poured a flood of light into the | jS^'^^VJ 
 
 heart of the Forest, and suddenly every | i -i* •«i> •" 
 
 tiny drop, that a moment ago might 
 
 have seemed a symbol of sorrow, held 
 
 the radiant sun on its little disk, and 
 
 every sphere shone as if a universe W 
 
 of fairy creation had been suddenly ^ 
 
 breathed into being. And the splendour 
 
 touched Rosalind also. 
 
 
 b ' II 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 . . . Pray you, if you know, 
 
 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 
 
 A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees ? 
 
 * 
 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 
 Left on your right hand, brings you to the place. 
 But at this hour the house doth keep itself 
 
 
 
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 ^^|M Years ago, when we were planning P'?*^^ 
 M^V^Sm^ ^"^^ ^ certain modest little house, I 
 J|ir^jK^^ and I found endless delight p 
 
 m^^rSm^ the pleasures of anticipation. By |;'. 
 ^^rwrn^^^ ^"^ ^y "*8^^t <^^ ""^k came back |' 
 W^^yW^, *^^ ^°"^^ ^^ w«^ •■ '^ 'i^ake for our- P 
 
 l\^^ki:-M selves. We rlisrucc*^ «f^« ^fo„- „f„ i 
 
 'k*^ 
 
 ^- 
 
 , „^ 4^w»wv. v^vvi uuun.a, we xaia vi 
 
 the experience of our friends under con- § 
 tribution; and when at last we had "' 
 agreed upon certain essentials, we called b4 
 an architect to our aid, and fondly im- ,|? 
 agined that now the prelude of discus- i 
 sion and delay was over, we should M 
 
 i,M^ 
 
 ■i^^' 
 
 \'^iv: 
 
 t. 
 
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 find unalloyed delight in seeing our 
 imaginary home swiftly take form and « 
 become a thing of reality. Alas for our % :t^ 
 hopes I Expense followed fast upon ex- L#v 
 pense and delay upon delay. There I' ^ 
 were endless troubles with masons and W^^' 
 carpenters and plumbers; and when IIC^ 
 
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IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 :i h 
 
 >; I 
 
 if 
 
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 H 
 
 
 
 i'our dream was at last realised, the 
 charm of it had somehow vanished; 
 so much anxiety, care, and vexation , >, .. 
 had gone into the process of building &|S 
 that the completed structure seemed to wS^^ 
 be a monument of our toil rather than ^^■''^ 
 a refuge from the world. 
 
 After this sad experience, Rosalind 
 and I contented ourselves with build- 
 
 I'ijiiif^^fMMfs"^^ ^^^*^" ^" Spain; and so great has 
 gllllll^been our devotion to this occupation 
 Hi!i|||that we are already joint owners of 
 ""'iBllli*"^"^^"^^ possessions in that remote and 
 
 ^ig||pi beautiful country. It is a singular cir- 
 ■m cumstance that the dwellers i.i Arden, 
 
 almost without exception, are holders 
 I of estatts in Spain. I have never seen 
 I any of these splendid properties; in 
 
 fact, Rosalind and I have never seen 
 [our own castles; but I have heard 
 'very full and graphic descriptions of 
 [those distant seats. In imagination I 
 
 have often seen the great piles crown- 
 
 74 
 
 ^**pHc^ 
 
 Mi 
 
 '\[ V 
 
 ■'^i^^- 
 
09M '1^ r^ of wooded Ms, whence Ei« 
 
 ^^^11 ?'"'' °"*' I have been thr^d hnli*;.!* 
 W§m *^ "O'^' °f *e huntinehorn and^r P'^ifc 
 
 ip*^ In the Fb.est of Arden there is no 
 «?:,:> <; il ='"'='' ''"ve show of battlement a^ 
 
 
 liili 
 
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 /I 
 

 
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 Rl 
 
 
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 Mm 
 
 i()st^'^^ i the Forest, In castle and palace, the 
 
 ■■^w 
 
 wealth and splendour of life — every 
 
 i'^i^*'?'^ I thing that gives it grace and beauty to 
 
 I'l ^"^I^^VJ the eye — are treasured within massive 
 
 * ^'JirM walls and protected from the common 
 
 gaze and touch. Every great park, 
 
 I with its reaches of inviting sward and 
 
 its groups of noble trees, seems to say 
 
 to those who pass along the highway: 
 
 **We are too rare for your using." 
 
 Every stately palace, with its wonderful 
 
 paintings and hangings, its sculpture 
 
 and furnishings, locks its massive gates 
 
 against the great world without, as if 
 
 that which it guards were too precious 
 
 for common eyes. In Arden no one 
 
 dreams of fencing off a lovely bit of 
 
 open meadow or a cluster of great trees ; 
 
 private ownership is unknot n the 
 
 Forest. Those who dwell . ..re are 
 
 |%||| tenants in common of a grander estate ^B^^H I 
 
 M^^rn^] *^" ^^^ ^^^^ conquered by sword, Pl»|^!w 11 
 ll^fej^ purchased by gold, or bequeathed by i*l«-f^l 
 
 -A 
 
 }^^^x^-^''^^-:m^ ■,. .,,^ ■ Jv'v- 
 
m 
 
 iiii»i 
 
 m I*" '*^ "^ *=scent. There a 
 
 I and fnendshv; but the wealth of iifelfclli 
 y « common to all. Instead of elegantSS^^ 
 
 I houses and a meagre, inferior Mfcli^K?^ 
 
 a mere are modest homes and a noble P«f Ivil 
 Icommonlife. If the houses in our citfes^lW 
 1 were simple a.^ homelike in their a^lllis^ 
 
 tiV^ art and *- - - - - 
 
 J.'/", O'- 
 
 ,i*!( 
 
 g| simplicity, frugality for our private andflft'^sS 
 
 m Personal wants, splendid profusion, noble IP -«j 
 
 ' I ^"^^'^¥"tf"' luxury lor thai com- Pi'- ^="^ 
 
 i mon We which now languishes becausel;f ' 
 
 so few recognise its needs. When wiU 11, 
 
 the world learn the real lesson of dvilii* 
 
 sation, and, for the cheap and ignoblel 
 
 
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 }||:p^:,;.:,; :^ The murmuring stream at our door I.' ■^-:v,>:''y 
 .,::.;;;;.v :,,;::.,; m Ardeii whispered to us by day and te';f%'":}f 
 "'■ ■^^:^:%p|^y "ight the sweet secret of the happi- IMM^^''''M 
 , ;^%H ness in the Forest, where no man str^v^s M'"^'':'' ^'4 
 . i to outshine his neighbour or to encumber Kfc#^^.|| 
 - the free and joyous play of his life with m&'Mm 
 those luxuries which are only another l$f 1^ v; '! S 
 mme for care. Our modest little home I ' " 
 sheltered but did not enslave us; it held 
 a door open for all the sweet ministries 
 L^V"^!'^^^ I °* affection, but it was barred against 
 ^;;^|'P''.nf anxiety and care; birds sang at its 
 flower-embowered windows, and the 
 
 >i*!^^ 
 
 
 fS ftl ^*'^8^^^!?^^ of t^e beautiful days lingered 
 there, but no sound from the world of 
 
 * ,>i ^ 
 
 g>» ' «J f ^*"^^ ^^'^ struggle ever cn- 
 
 Nv'^' mS ^^^^r ^^ ^'^^^ J°yo"s as children in 
 ..AjfA k^<.. a home which protected our bodies. 
 
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 while ft «t our spirits at liberty which §lP^ 
 gave us the sweetness of re^ and «M lll^-'«l'!ii 
 2^7Me it left us C <rtrt ife^ 
 ample leisure of the Forest and tTj • r 
 deep of its rich and he^Twluift V^ 
 (' / „. "r5«* overshadowed by the rZ' 
 
 |g3|gAt.urhood, our horned, /C^'^S mM 
 
 ilii- : s^^f^r: '^'i^'ft ^- ^ fell! 
 
 • li i vFi!«;H .u^ t J* '' "-""^a not have fitted into rfcii7 '^ 
 'Mw'%¥'i^'¥' i.f.f{fi^« J " ^^^^ suggestion of M^^ 
 
 l^'^i vV structure was compSi; f ' ' ' 
 
 own With enVsfdevrortti'a'nl 
 vme. Without, it seemed part^f thf 
 i. ; '' Forest; within, it seemed ^C ?■ -li 
 ifcv5 ""r^o' o"' We therrPrifnds Sme 
 
 morning broke radiant through tlttZ' 
 feed window, the seasons ^d ft 
 
 r^K 
 
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 J a| with their changing life ; our own fel- 
 M ^°^^^P o^ "^cJ and heart made it 
 '■^ unspeakably sacred. Love and loyalty 
 within; noble friends at the hearthstone; 
 soft or shining heavens above; mystery 
 of forest and music of stream without : 
 this is home in Ardcn. 
 
 ..fej 
 
 ti'S 
 
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 . books in the running brooks 
 
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 -^v 
 
 ^ Maw-'. '<^^^, Jf^yiiH^^-i^^v <^ 
 
 the s^udy fire and finished the readinf, i 
 , of some volume that had yield^^l- 
 
 ^^. other that we should surely find Hn 
 
 pnere m which the most delicate and Ift 1 7 /^isS 
 
 ^tdd meaning ^^, tec:me':f ^^''^-^ 
 
 fint4 ^11 *u ^.™^°^s. 1 hat we should ^t >' ■ - : ^^*1 
 hnd a^I the classics there we had not the ' - '^* MM 
 
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 j^''jwas of the principle of selection, long i^':;' ![»J^ *^ 
 
 ^J^iJ||;jr; 4; j sought after by lovers of books, but 
 i.ii^X^^u}:^m never yet found, which we were certain 
 
 ^';'^JJ^J;;J?'f'^; would be easily discovered when we 
 l^^f^r' A}^camQ lo look along the shelves of the 
 
 '■'M 
 
 pA^v\^^^l| libraries in Arden. With what delight 
 pS8"!i''''3'';''|we anticipated the long days when we 
 p; j;-v vx read together again, and amid 
 
 g;,|:^^"^^'; V^^^ novel surroundings, the books we 
 
 fe\. ii ,.^;^-IovedI For, although our home con- 
 ^"^ ' ■; tained few luxuries, it hac' fed the mind; 
 ,^ there was not a great soul in literature 
 ^gHi'! * :. I whose name was not on the shelves of 
 ' ^^ourlihriirYf and the companionships of 
 ^^that room made our quiet home more 
 rich in gracious and noble influences 
 than many a palace. 
 
 ■'W;^\slK ^^'^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^" *^^ Forest 
 /|||j|;:S| several months before we even thought 
 
 w/4*\|lof books; so absorbed were we in the 
 
 !*>-■■■•' 
 
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 mM 
 
 
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 .. ,. ■Viii ^ ''^^^ ^ we wnose most inspiring hours t^^'^-:l'|lSi 
 
 ^i#^'f?i4^^ ?"^^ ^^^" *^°^^ ^ ^^^h we read f -^"''^^ 
 
 Dgether from some familiar page. For 
 
 
 P^''"\'':ih" ^stant I felt something akin to l?-'i.;'li' "'^^ 
 K- '.' .i^i^^fel remorse; it seemed as if I had beer fci«''^l:ii 
 disloyal to friends who had never If 
 failed me in any time of need. But \ 
 as I meditated on this strange forget- pf .^ , 
 fulness of mine, I saw that in Arden I'iviJ I't?;*. 
 
 
 mm 
 
 lies open 
 
 iMii, 
 
 W\:^:!im:m^^ ^^g^'^^ ?^tore him^ Why should mMMi/ 
 t^-^mn"^ watch the reflections in the shad- iS^P^fS* 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 'i 
 
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 v.; n 
 
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 ' 
 
 I ♦'' )ftrfli^ i heavens shine above him ? Why should Jf frSj^,^^ 
 r J^f 4 one linger before the picturesque land- 1 ^-f^^! I 
 i. ^"^^^ j scape which art has imperfectly trans- !^>^ #:^^ 
 '^1 ferred to canvas when the scene, with 1^ •-.| 
 ^^ I all its elusive play of light and shade, |,^^^ | 
 I &fM i ^^^^ outspread before him? I became | p^^.^ || 
 ^'•Wvi-'i conscious that in Arden one lives ^ %.M | 
 I ■p|B. g habitually in the world which books ^^^.^^gm 
 «S|J are always striving to portray and in- Ip.';:-'/'''^''';,: 
 terpret; that one sees with his own ^ =^ 
 
 eyes all that the eyes of the keenest |pt^:i:|^|| 
 
 observer have ever seen; th?t om ^r^s,^sj$^ 
 feels in his own soul all the greatest 
 soul has ever felt. That which in the 
 
 
 outer world most men know only by ^,'-0^^M 
 report, in Arden each ^ae knows for pi^tiJ?lS 
 himself. The stories of travellers cease K^f Si" 
 to interest us when we are at last within ^J^^v' ^t % 
 the borders of the strange, far country, g, ,|- ■'• 
 Books are, at the best, faint and xV|^ 
 ' imperfect transcriptions of Nature and (mf^ 
 
 pfV^lft^: imperfect trai 
 
 ||r;'^!|::%J- life; when ( 
 
 life; when one comes to see Nature! 
 
 86 i 
 
 
 
 
 ■rP. 
 
 
 iMiiiiiiiMSiPiilliiliiiiSiiSii''''** 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 z:h± :I''^.'!'^°™ .tv-. .-<• to 
 
 enter mto the secrets of life, all tran-fei^fitt 
 fcnptons become inadequate. He who ifSf^ii 
 has heard the mysterious and haunting '«i*isii 
 
 y & j^l^^ ^^ 
 
 
 in p "^ > 
 
 id "^^ "^ - 
 id 
 
 ^ s 
 
 i 
 
 re .-^ii ir| 
 
 ■'' 1 
 
 
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 UMIU II 
 
 lllllliJlililWlllly Mli l(il 
 
 m, ^'^ 'ri^j, 4^r.^r.4. 'V -"'*"*-"""•> *t"a nauntinj? ^^^^^ ; c^ 
 
 '*''^ \ «,^*f|'^ monotone of the s^a Trriir ^p. «.^^., , 
 
 IlI^ '1 ^ ^^^ will never re«?t 1 ;'^Cv>' \ i .i^^ 
 
 tr'' "f:T.r'* "•* "°'''*^' harmony "S?.;^!*!! 
 
 r' which the composer seeks to Uend :?%!''«« 
 
 ' Aose deepv elusive tones, he who hasr^^* %' 
 
 sat iTOur by hour under the spell of^ | 
 
 T ^, 7°°^ ^^ feel that spell fliv £ 
 
 sh«n of rts magical power in AeK' 
 
 ^noblest verse that ever sought to con-'t 
 
 :^ tem and <«press it, he wl^ has mi ii 
 
 h 4) looked wtfi rL.^.. fii^-L, ""^^ :;5 
 
 
 rl 
 
 (l. 
 
 nil 
 
 

 Hiiiumiiwffiiiii 
 
 
 '^^^s^' 
 
 ^is?^ 
 
 3t^P 
 
 KUtittUi^' 
 
 ■rjj^^ 
 
 >->v 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ;■>-, 
 
 r^iis 
 
 if***. 
 
 .v^iJm 
 
 v<4W 
 
 %: 
 
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 juic; 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^'^^t'^ 
 
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 -^f 
 
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 ^1 si 
 
 In Arden wc found these ancient and fr| ^, 
 
 ;«-'*%V4' ^ 
 
 ^'^ V j perennial fountains; and we drank deep 
 ^^M^ and long. There was that in the mys- 
 
 fa, 
 
 tcry of the woods which made all 
 j^^V { poetry seem pale and unreal to us; 
 ^^/,!j/^i S 1 there v/as that in life, as we saw it in 
 ^.^ 4, ^^'V the noble souls about us, which made 
 5] all records and transcriptions in books 
 I seem cold and superficial. What need 
 had we of verse when the things which 
 the greatest poets had seen with vision 
 no clearer than ours lay clear and un- 
 speakably beautiful before us? What 
 had fiction or history for us, upon whom 
 the thrilling spell of the deepest human 
 living was laid I Rosalind and I were 
 hourly meeting those whose thoughts 
 
 4iV«.<) 
 
 mm 
 
 Vim 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 1 
 
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 'i 
 
 'm 
 
 M 
 
 
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 had fed the world for generations, and r/?^ JtijJ 
 whose names were on all lips, but they ^^-^'^^^-^ 
 I never spoke of the books they had writ- 
 ten, the pictures they had painted, the 
 music they had composed. And, strange 
 to say, it was not because of these 
 ^^ splendid works that we were drawn ., ..„. 
 F^^^JB*! *° *^^"^' '* ^^s *^^ q^a^ity oi their KlU^p 
 Wmi *?*"''"' *^' ^"'P' compelling charm of ^p;|i,|3i, 
 
 mm their companionship. In Arden it is a .M:*^:;'! 
 
 
 :|ifS 
 
 they are m themselves gives these f#|'^''i;^^^ 
 mm names a lustre in Arden such as shines Uyl ^ !':■ tp 
 ^^ from no crown of fame in the outer |l^ r i ' W 
 
 M ^^^ ^°'^^ ^^^ ^^«n the food dhpi\'''',m 
 11 mimortal hope to us, but we almost Iti' |:''>); 
 
 ^ dreaded that nearer acquaintance which a"y i'^tj^ 
 
 iSl^flr Sn ("■■■I" .d'.f"^. I'ii 
 
 
 
 ^^^^^'-t^i^u^"''"i/ii7'.,u,„„;ij^ 
 
 .fi 
 
 ^1 
 
 )'/1 
 
 I 
 
 1( 
 
 
 
 /'■''I 
 
„i 'P 
 
 ifil ^v 
 
 m '^ 
 
 It 
 
 V. il 
 
 1 
 
 H 'Jl 
 
 *tj 
 
 
 i 
 
 V -' 
 
 :^^' 
 
 '-|?^£"*^ might disp . . , ,,,. .^ , 
 
 a&^i I How delighted were we to discover that k.^^\ 
 A ^M I not only are great souls, really under- k K^^^ 
 l^'v^ n stood, greater than all their works, but | ;!r^ :':^ 
 /""^^ I that the works were forgotten and | p^r* 
 % 7 ^^ nothing was remembered but the soul I | ;^f 
 U />"%! 2 Not as those who are fed by the bounty I' fev-*i| 
 ^^^^^ 3 of the king, but as kings ourselves, were i ||M:|; 
 [^' J we received into this noble company. L,Sfcg,,.g 
 m J Were we not born to the same inhcri- Si^^M 
 ^^ tance? Were not Nature and life ours iMSi 
 J^Y<' ^s truly as they were Shakespeare's and ^»!^H 
 s,:^ ^''^<^% Wordsworth's? As we sat at rest ^^,^3^^ 
 ^5^>>v jli under the great arms of the trees, or R^!:(^a^^ 
 r '" ^J^S« roamed at will through the woodland S&k*-I| 
 k\.!^A :t^ «iifKs. tV.?. nne thout^ht that was com- fe-^fe.if^fe 
 
 «!*.fk^ paths, the one thought that was com- fe 
 '.kvt:?rrwi^ mon to us all was. not how nobly these m 
 
 mon to us all was, not how nobly these i^^«H^^?i;^ 
 scenes had been pictured and spoken, |y^^"^||f" 
 but how far above all language of art ^gpE|_ 
 they were, and how shallow runs the 'SiM-|f||l 
 stream of speech when these mysterious Mil^ilM 
 
 treasures of feeling and insight are g| 
 launched upon it I 
 
 90 
 
 
 :^:!'^t.4i2iiiiil 
 
 
 ly k iiut miu iM i 
 
 
 
 
 
mK7P^"*'l'*»^-«|,"''i(' 
 
 •M 9^:3 
 
 ilii 
 
 f^'-rrfr 
 
 lyi.xl V^Oj 
 
 -s '•'^-f*\,,.'S-.\7' %)" 
 
 V. f'-*' 
 
 'St !^ TFli,' 
 
 ,us %dm ^,!AtA 
 
 4* 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 .'i 
 
Hlli 
 
 
 v< 
 
 I'i : ' 
 
 Tl 
 
 \'i 
 
 If'': ■ 
 
 

 
 
 
 I 
 
 among those who IrTT-l ^^ '° ^'"^^'0 " 
 nise nobility of moC r '° «"«-» 
 aspiration, to bXr^ ,1°"^ " ^*f% 
 highest in' each ohi , It t ^ ""^s4 
 
 
 'i 
 
 ! U 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 

 ri I 
 
 
 •1' 
 
 :*? 1^' 
 
 H (.?f 
 
 fllfflliailHlHIKiW 
 
 
 
 r^ 
 
 
 power of mutual faith and the inspi- 
 ration of a common devotion to the 
 J ideals that were dearest to us, that our 
 
 f-m^f' '' 
 
 ■^"V"** t^W^l *^°"8:hts turned so often and with such 
 '^'''''y ^' I jVj longing to Arden. In such moments 
 * ^ ,/, t'ii/^^'i ^^ opened with delight certain books 
 
 " . »?^"i»'l"^hic^ ^^^^ ^"^^ °f *^^ i°y ^^^ beauty of 
 M<^gS Forest life; books which brou: 
 if."r' '• "^— fback the dreams that were fading 
 'and touched us afresh with the 
 ■y searchable charm and beauty of the 
 ^ Ideal. Surely there could no better 
 ' ]'; fortune befall us than to be able to call 
 r^it- these great ministering spirits our 
 friends. 
 
 But, strong as was our longing, wc 
 were not without misgivings when wc 
 first found ourselves in Arden. In this 
 commerce of ideas and hopes, what had 
 we to give in exchange? How could 
 we claim that equality with those we 
 'J^l'^t^iFJ longed to know which is the only basis 
 ^^/''f.S °^ friendship? We were unconsciously 
 
 m ■.' ■■ ■' Hk 
 
 
 m 
 
 IM 
 

 )ur 
 
 )ks 
 of 
 
 Sc -,) 
 
 \<- ^ .la 
 
 the w r-^^ 
 
 i^Y'.. ,.;^f frying into the Forest the limitations Mi^^ 
 
 ip^trW °"' °^^ l^'-^ ^""^ ^"^°ng all the glad f^^^^M 
 
 ||.f.p^y surprises that awaited us there was ii,:,,i^<ir 
 
 l|l>#^^'^'^':"°'^^.^°J°>^"Ias the discovery that our te/*^^«^ 
 
 #!l^llBl'"!?' 1?'''^''''"^^ vanished as soon as we U^US' 
 
 ill'iliW f '"^. P^^>^ f "^^^^ "P°" "^ind where |, .» 
 ^^'0''!^^ '^ ^^'^P^^t^ unconsciousness of self »S,,;^ 
 ifili||^^/^°'^P^^ti;^bsorptionin the idea and m'i^'^ 
 Mprf . ^^^'^ "^^^ something almost Ki 't ' ,. 
 
 PpIRi those first wonderful tto^''^'^'^^" 
 
 Wlilr^"'" ? '^'^'"' ^^ s^^"^^^ suddenly 
 ifi #1^^ only to be perfectly understood by «| 
 
 II others, but for the first time to under- Wl^^W 
 ^«''» stand ourselves; the horizons of our W'^liM 
 
 mental world seemed to be swiftly 
 
 ll 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 i4 
 
1 
 
 
 r"! 
 
 • I 
 
 
 
 II! ,/ ' 
 
 ,1 
 
 receding, 
 
 % ^M^ "^^^"^ ^^^^ "P ^"to the clear light of 
 
 j,.>^V4s jj consciousness. All that was best in us 
 
 "^ ''W/ J was set free ; we were confident where 
 
 I , '^ J we had been uncertain and doubtful ; 
 
 ^^^>C l^c were bold where we had been 
 
 ''^^ I almost cowardly. We spoke our deep- 
 
 '— -"^ est thought frankly ; we drew from their 
 
 1*1* 4 J M 
 
 hiding-places our noblest dreams of the 
 life we hoped to live and the things we 
 ,,, ,,,,,;.. SI h°P^^ *° achieve; we concealed nothing, 
 I S i?ii^?i! '^^^**^^^ "°*^"^' evaded nothing; we 
 ^^y 'm "^^^^ desirous above all things that 
 ./'> ".-^i^S^^.-.f others should know us as we knew our- 
 ^i selves. It was especially restful and 
 refreshing to speak of our failures and W -W.m^ 
 weaknesses, of our struggles and de- f?!^tSfi 
 feats ; for these experiences of ours were ^'^^^^ «»Ki>i& 
 ^^ instantly matched by kindred experi- 
 1 ences, and in the common sympathy 
 I and comprehension a new kind of 
 strength came to us. The humiliation 
 
 of defeat was shared, v/e found, by even 
 
 96 
 
 
 
 ii.jfbi 
 
 liiii »im JikkuiuliiiiJiUiii] 
 
freedom 
 
 fffl'fj .^7''.'''^.' ^^'^ '"•"Je the.. 
 
 were was not 
 
 rf>,j( \""." •"""" "*"J weakness, but 
 steadfast ^ruggle to overcome and -, 
 
 .. J ftlled our hearts, we remembered with a f*"" 
 f^ddenpaintheworldoutofwhS!"; I 
 had escaped, where everyone hides his ' 
 , 'weakness lest it feed a vulgar curiC t 
 and conceals his defeats lest they b^ 
 „) u^d ,0 destroy rather than to build'hm ifc 
 
 *-.W.i;.W^.h what delight did we find that., 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 aArde„.hr\;:5:'^';;:?jx"^t.*j 
 
 an^ .«r,,tf r J Deaumul candour ,iW^'l^*ii 
 
 and unaffec ed earnestness ! To have H^ 3ii 
 
 onX. Vk ' 'fP^'^ '^^^^^ discourse ' %ra 
 on the thmes that Txr^--, ^f ;-. -f^SmM 
 
 u 
 
 i'A 
 
 ™fj*ai 
 
 I 
 
■■^urra 
 
 I 
 
 hi 'i ■*, 
 
 ^'1 
 
 '&fSf^MjF:u/i 
 
 
 
 ym!. 
 
 w 
 
 
 Mm ■ 
 
 was vital and one mused on half a con-, .., 
 tincnt spread out at his feet. There isSj'^v/ 
 no food for the soul but truth, and we^'^ •'^ < 
 were filled with a mighty hunger when t 
 we understood for how long a time we '' 
 had been but half fed. A new strength ' 
 
 |iiiiill»^ "?^ *°^^' ^""^ ^'^^ '* ^ openness of 
 j|Mpi|||| mind and a responsiveness of heart that 
 
 ll^^^l^ made life an inexhaustible joy. We, 
 
 ii;»5'^ ^^'; were set free from the weariness of old' 
 
 struggles to make ourselves understood; 
 
 I we were no longer perplexed with 
 
 doubts about the reality of our ideas ;|}; 
 
 we had but to speak the thought that? 
 
 was in us, and to live fearlessly and I 
 
 joyously in the hour that was before us. ' 
 
 Frank speaking, absolute candour, that 
 
 would once have wounded, now only 
 
 cheered and stimulated; the spirit of,^^„ 
 
 entire helpfulness drives out all morbid g 
 
 self-consciousness. Differences no longer 
 
 embitter when courtesy and faith are 
 
 universal possessions. 
 
 
 if4j 41 
 
 V 
 
 
 y fi 
 
 ^u 
 
 ("^i* 
 
 fir -i t 
 
 ttHiv 
 
 »■^,l 
 
 
 yi> 
 
 > ' \i 
 
*;:k.'^3H friendship, ^dkL\;;^^hi7Z';,:;;^^ 
 
 if , 
 
 Pi^fit^y drawing th;;2^ 
 
 ''f'f«iii *"''• ^K'^r" °^ ^ P^rf^^tV noble mrp-nv^m 
 .l^J^m^dM companionship between two souL is as P^^^vtl 
 real as the perfume of a flower, Inl 11 ^^^^ 
 impossible to convey by word or speech • f^ ' ^ '« 
 
 Mr . r.,|'^ ation and transference. I cannot trans- kU'iiM( 
 
 ^m Nature has made its sanctity in,SabIe fep*« 
 
 M 'I m late 
 
 u 1 - . 7 — «*"v,iiiy uivioiaoie ktS J 
 by makinjg: it forever impossible of reve- Uf ; 
 
 Sifaiii 
 
 into any language the delicate 
 
 m¥C' L — . — ' '"^igurtgc me aeiicate 
 ■0&1 ^^r^^'L t^e inexhaustible variety, the 
 
 wii^^i splendour of thought, the unfailing sym- 
 pathy, of our Arden friendships: thev 
 
 
 m ji. 
 
 a«^ part of_the IWst, and L^ m„^i4?::g 
 
 o«^f il - "•- xv^itsci, etna one must ilk--:) I f 
 
 tmnT fr ^t"'- " ^<^«' vulgarise Mfe' ']■■ 
 B|a| *''' ''Howships to catalogue the great MfM ' 'M' 
 mm names, always familiar to us, and yet « R i'''=sili 
 lilfi yhi* gained another and a bette^fa.^. P'* ^^ 
 11 '*""' ''''^" *«y «^«d to recaU famous l 
 m persons and became associated with Psiiilinia 
 |((.hose who sat at our hearthstone orpf'S 
 
 ir- 
 
 ■ "^*M, 
 
 -rriirai/f < 
 
 w 
 
 iimrisi^^ 
 
I'- 
 ll 
 
 ■'■f 
 
 t 
 
 ijf"'^ 
 
 }• 
 
 HI 
 
 
 m' 
 
 
 ^A 
 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 
 ;»»'i.. 'i.'i'>"'_-'.,-..*=;rJPi 
 
 ,ff^-.''^ 
 
 V^^ ,u almd was sooner at home in this noble ^€&|' 
 (^,p.S^ l^ company than I: she had far less to I ^S^Sf^ 
 
 I ^^ ij larity with my neii^hbours vjhirU ,„.. .ft fe ll 
 
 t 7 1 ;^"*y ^^t^ ^y neighbours which was'ail w. 
 
 : J""'^, i' ^^V"^^^^^' *° ""' ^'"^"^^ ^t registered I" '^^^ 
 tvf 1 If'"^^ ^","^y^f" ^'^-^ hoped fo", often I fe 
 fc)!"" ' ^^^P^^^ed of, at last accomplished. To I W^ 
 
 m I ti T.! T^^i^^^r, -- f ioy which L m 
 
 ,tt1i 
 
 m[if^,>.' ^h^^?,^y 8:^en silence laid her finger on T 
 ;:^jr :; J>"^ }PS. and in a common mood we 
 
 J^^^^ ;° u°"''^r' ^'^^" *°^^*h^^ without ; . ^ . J 
 
 If^^^fm^. speech. Often at night, when the ^"-"«1FwXi 
 
 
 \r^^ 
 
 
 .. .v. • r f '"S"i» wnen me ' 
 
 ^-;^ magic of the moon has woven all ' 
 
 wo ft, 
 
 
 MlUI tuinitit 
 
 
 vOajjiJw 
 
 ,,, , '/^^ 
 
 
 iiiilitii 
 
 III 
 

 
 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 A***; 
 
 J toil 
 
 mil- fT/,j6t: '-v'j 
 
 :red F;***^. ■ a 
 
 'I 1*11 
 
 Id. 
 
 ften 
 To p 
 
 V.cr g'-'' 
 
 
 
 ■#^ 
 
 ^^ 'J^^. Xi' ''=*"^* 
 
 nd ,=5?%f :,;'/|' 
 
 \ f' »i ' 
 
 
 'Kill 
 
 
 m,\i 
 
 
 -^i\^. 
 
 'i'lrwv 
 
 «j:r;, 
 
 ^&.l«. 
 
 -oil; 
 
 It A 
 
h 
 
 iim 
 
X 
 
 - . there ^s no dock in the forest 
 
 
 jJMiSWdU^. 
 
 
 
 MM, 
 
 
 / 
 
 /J 
 
m' 
 
 ri f 
 
 ■■i I 
 
 I ^A i 
 
 
 m f 
 
 >H 
 
 11,. .'I B 
 
 I'll 
 
 ^^ I 
 
 li;' 
 
 1 
 
 
',.;^'^^- •■■;■ '^ ''^ ^»i;i^.v;. r "v. - -■^>^- '*■'■' '., :.'^.^<'i ^^v.^^v ■■:-<.. '^' 
 
 ii. 
 
 ~ .>-.v. VI lapiure in the 
 
 possession of our days that was new to 
 
 i S^ u ''"'\°^ ownership of time of 
 
 ,g| dreamed when we lived by the dock. 
 
 IP Those tmy ornamental hands on the 
 
 ^ delicately painted dial were our task! 
 
 I masters, disguised under forms so dainty 
 
 land fragile that, while we felt their 
 
 i tyranny, we never so much as suspected 
 
 their share m our servitude. Silent 
 
 hemselves, they issued their commands 
 
 I m tones we dared not disregard; fash- 
 
 J ITft .'° '""^S^^y^ tW ruled us as 
 
 mm smaU a circle, they^sent us hither and 
 
 rfpf 
 
 if'f^'^s 
 
 ^M^ 
 
 
 ■,'*waaiHrBii,'..*( 
 
 g!^m^ 
 
 ^■'^'^tH 
 
 P'i^ 
 
 A-i 
 
 
# 
 
 w 
 
 t 
 
 r-' 
 
 I 
 
 (I i 
 
 Vi ■ 
 
 I- ' 
 
 ' 
 
 )/ 
 
 I'l 
 
 
 ij If 
 
 S yon on every imaginable service. They Mih^^^Mt 
 
 **i5fi?^^iill i s^v^^^^ eternity into minute fragments, 
 
 '**^^-l'^^'^lil ^"^ ^^^^* ^* °"* *° "^ minute by minute 
 li:?^ ' :. i ll'l like a cordial given drop by drop to the 
 
 dying; they marked with relentless 
 
 exactness the brief periods of our leisure 
 
 ■ vmw-i-\Jp^' ^""^ indicated the hours of our toil. We 
 
 I i|i|^|ii|i|i|ailj mexorable surveillance; day and night ^ 
 WMSI,^^ ^^Pt silent record beside us, meas- |:^-: 
 
 n'Sm'fMJl^^"^^^^^'^ light of summer in 
 .|;'J,'jU:|t^i!.'f their tiny balances, and doling out the 
 lipijpif'^f;?- pittance of winter sunshine with nig- 
 felnP'''''i'l*^''U S^^^^^y" reluctance. They hastened to 
 
 1 
 
 -';■;> 4 the end of our joys, and moved with 
 
 l^yl funereal slowness through the appointed 
 
 'y|) times of our sorrow. They ruled every 
 
 f|l season, pervaded every day, recorded 
 
 every hour, and, like misers hoarding a 
 
 treasure, doled out our birthright of 
 
 leisure second by second ; so that, being 
 
 rich, we were always impoverished; 
 
 inheritors of vast fortune, we were put 
 
 io6 
 

 
 fc'^4^-*ci°^^ ^'^^ ^ ""^^^'^ ^"^°"'^' ^0^^ free, g, ™,,„ 
 ^f^^^ we were servants of masters who fc^g^"^ 
 
 I \j ^ 1{ overseership. | ' ^,. ^5- • | 
 
 ' M^lk 4 '^u''' ^'' ?° '^°'^^ ^ Arden; the ft ^^^ ' 
 
 mS r"" ^'^t°^^ the day, and no imperti- i ^TA^' 
 
 Iff J"?''^ °^ ""^^ destroys its charm by f ' ^ 
 
 If i c^^c^^^ting its value and marking it with L 
 
 ■^ "^f a price. The only computers of time 
 
 are the great trees whose shadows 
 
 register the unbroken march of light 
 
 ^^-' f i'T/^f *° \''*- Even the days and Km.^-s Pi 
 
 W^htl.u'\'^^\ P^^^"^ distinctness t.^'^, J 
 
 m,*!"^^''^ *^'y^^ ^°^ "s^hen they gave M-^lv'^ /^ 
 
 ^ 'I us a constant sense of loss, an incessant S.%^<t 
 
 , . ^* *woo, ail uicessani 
 
 ' S!!!!''^!?' °^ ''.^^"^! ^""^ ^^^- '^^efr 5^C '\fl 
 
 1^,1 shining procession leaves no such ^M^^.'SS 
 |^..| records in Arden; they come like the iW'' ''^ 
 ■ waves whose ceaseless flow sings of the P?^ h 
 boundless sea whence they come. They i&i^'iM 
 
 !llliiiiini. '"'ill rllllll'ii 
 
 . , 'T^fll53' 1 ^",""«^^ss sea whence they come. 
 m-^IT^ bring no consciousness of ebbing 
 r?B\i ./^"^ j°ys and strength; they 
 
 I1IJ11.JJU jsu • *-^' 1 '''■' • ™S.'!^.i'''^i"'J"ii 
 
 *«4ikil 
 
 '3 
 
 
.I« ' 
 
 <:;f 
 
 ir r 
 
 t. 
 
 
 'W 
 
 i (' 
 
 I'll " 
 
 
 
 
 ■ <,1,*>.> ^ <v ■■■, ' ' 
 
 
 
 if^yiftn f *^^^ ^ sense of eternal resource and !/#'>?,^ '^ 
 
 |i|l''l$'- . :' . L^^^^"^^- ^ ^^^^" ons never feels fi^ . " >tv^ I 
 litfLAll^' »" haste; there is always time enough I,' ^Tl « 
 rl^' /I and to spare; in fact, the word time is "' 
 .fe..n?.viti never used in the vernacular of the^ 
 
 
 and to spare; in fact, the word time is 
 
 .. . .^.wr"^^^** "sed in the vernacular of the 
 
 I '1 ''Ci ' '- I V^**^^* ^^^^^* ^^^" reference is madt to 
 liv^^. J'|t"e enslaved world without. TS'rel 
 
 fe;if:i.;4"Jst''t! y^ ^^t ^ little bewildered '- our free- V i wlw 
 
 iiiaSlj^^"^'/?^ ^think Rosalind secretl/ / " 
 
 r^ ' -■% for the familiar tones of thcl ^ 
 i£: :^^^"^^°^ c^ock which had chimed so f 
 
 ilS'^^ii ?^"y yj?*"^ ^ ^"^ 0"t ^r "s in the old ^ A^ . s 
 »• fOdays. One must get accustomed even^^W^ 
 
 . l!l!S *o goo^ fortune, and afte*" one has been W'M 
 
 PI confined within the narrow limits of afe'^v. 
 |httle plot of earth the possession of a|P 
 I continent confuses and perplexes. ButrS 
 W^)W^ 1 1"^" ^^^ ^°^" *° ^^^ fortune if they but ^^i' 
 P.ilw?l T^^ ^*' ^"^ ^^ ^^**^ soon reconciled to ^' ^' 
 ^ ^^l|!!|the possession of inexhaustible wealth. 
 W| We felt the delight of a sudden exchange 
 mim of poverty for richness, a swift transition 
 

 lli'^ 
 
 '^,lT' ^ "" "^"«' '° *vide it into kVS^-VT 
 
 «« 
 
 ?^'r^ t^ "'^ "" *''' ""Piousness of fe 
 
 Ifl-i , /'*« °' «n« of' anxiety to always do 
 fcat the moment the uung that ou^t to be 
 «done, we accepted the days as g^° of 
 
 SiSStftl,. " 7** delightful to faU asleec lulled 
 
 it V-Jili*^*'''' without memory of care Z 
 feSfflpressure of work, to a V.S h^ 
 
 tW' ?"j!"^ r« *^»"i^" toto H 
 We rT* L'^f " "If '^^« °f '"'■'fe- r 
 
 we rose exhilarated and buoyant and e:-J*<'51:~ 
 
 breakfasted merrily under a S'o^ 
 sometimes we lingered far on into the 
 mormng, yielding ourselves to the speU 
 of the early day when it no Iong«^ 
 
 freedl°' T* '"^ ''"'y. but sings^o 
 freedom and ease and the strength that 
 makes a play of life Often we strayed 
 
 
 mm^ 
 
 JH 
 
 ■^•^(.1 
 
\-s<( 
 
 111 , 
 
 7, a 
 
 if I ^ 
 
 h 
 
 i '■ 
 
 * ft I 
 
 
 
 ii ^« i 
 
 '■;|- 
 
 Ml 
 
 P^„p_.,^^ 
 
 W 
 
 ••J 
 
 , — •■''•'^Ipiij.iiiirT. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 without plan or purpose, as the winding ,, 
 paths of the Forest led us; happy and il' 
 care-free as children suddenly let loose 
 in fairyland. We discovered moss- 
 grown paths which led into the very 
 heart of the Forest, and we pressed on 
 II silently from one green recess to another 
 ]l until all memory of the sunnier world 
 ! faded out of mind. Sometimes we j^jjl. 
 ,;::i;!| emerged suddenly into a wide, brilliant y|| 
 '•ikvl 8^^*^^ ' sometimes we came into a sane- ^J\^ 
 ^m tuary so overhung with great masses of K^^^^ 
 i|i;i:)«j foliage, so secluded and silent, that ^^ |^.;:jii2 \,^^ij„,j| 
 ifiy; took the rude pile of moss-grown stones p!;|;||/||||J| 
 ililfflili ^e found there as an ahar to solitude, ||t ^^ *i^iii'^;J;:|| 
 and our stillness became part of the Lj!^;!: ['."^j^, 
 universal worship of silence which ^m 
 . ^1 ™ touched us with a deep and beautiful 
 i|M solemnity. Wherever we strayed the 
 same tranquil leisure enfolded us ; day 
 JJi followed day in an order unbroken and 
 If |li|if|l peaceful as the unfolding of the flov^ers 
 ^Tn<'?ilill'"J and the silent march of the stars. Time 
 

 
 no longer ran like the lew sands m a K'^i 
 
 dehcate hour-glass held by a Cle "- ^"^ -"' 
 human h^n.f k..* uu^ . ._ . '"giie 
 
 itself a svmhn f ^°'''°"' ^^^ 
 
 itseit a symbol of eternity, with its 
 
 mf.m te d.pth of colour, Us sublime 
 
 by the flight and songs of birds. These 
 
 were at home in that ethereal sphere 
 at rest m that boundless space, and 
 
 we were not slow to learn the lesson 
 
 ..,^^ wiiiiuui moujjht ot 
 
 yesterday or to-morrow; we drank the 
 cup which to-day held to our lips, and 
 
 ^7/^'^° '°"? ^^ ^' were athirst j 
 that draught would not be denied us, i 
 
 ,^^^_^.S<^w»««^»r: ^J£n 
 
 Mu>ikL 
 
 &ik-^k 
 
 
 flj^T^tl ij 
 
 ml 
 
m 
 
 I , >' 
 
 H 
 
 1' It 
 
 I / 
 
 ^';i 
 
 I '^f, 
 
 M 
 
 ,ii 
 
 ill 
 
 
 
 
 I! 
 
 %\ 
 
 Ik (. 
 

 0. 
 
 
 £€ 
 
 
 
 . . . every of this happy number 
 
 1 hat Imve endur'd shrewd nights and 
 
 days with us, 
 Shall share the good of our returned 
 
 lortune. 
 According to the measure of their states 
 
 
 h 
 
ml 
 
 Ml I 
 
 '^. ' 
 
 it 
 
 ;■? 
 
 11% 
 
 I ^ 
 
 i II 
 
 ill). 
 
 - Ml 
 
 ^■ 
 
 l^i^ I' 
 h ' 
 
 i 
 

 
 >i.^; 
 
 Xi 
 
 a 
 
 '1 n 
 
 Pi 
 
 7m 
 
 (.< «>;„ 
 
 There is this great consolation for 
 those who cannot live continually in 
 the Forest of Arden: that, having 
 once proven one's citizenship there, 
 one can return at will. Those who 
 have lived in Arden and have gone, 
 back again into the world, are sus-il '''JJ^^S 
 tained in their loneliness by the knowI-f^kCCTI 
 edge of their fellowship with a nobler LirMfl 
 I community. Aliens though they are, ilWW 
 I they have yet a country to which theyP ' 
 ,are loyal, not through interest, butf, 
 through aspiration, imagination, faith, Vl.k 
 and ove. Rosalind and I found thef' 5^^ ^m 
 months in Arden all too brief; our lifefcWrO 
 
 i^I 
 
 F 
 
 m 
 
 tliere was one long golden day, whose 
 sunset cast a soft and tender light 
 on our whole past and made itp> 
 beautiful for us. It is one of the'P 
 delights of the Forest that only the 
 noblest aspects of life are visible there ; 
 ^Mor, rather, that the hard and bare^ 
 m ^^*^^^^ °^ ^^^^"8:. seen in the atmos-L 
 
 I 
 
 I'fi 
 
^■>J 
 
 w 
 
 F:?5^-:pJ,e.e of A.den, yieU so^e truth of S^ 
 Character or experience which. like th^ ^Qh.m 
 
 feM''^ ^)rt> ^^^""^ °* ^""^^"^ y^^^'^ so"^^ truth of 
 'fi^i'./AT ^^^^^^t^^ or experience which, like the '^hi^W^^' 
 
 #>"^»»^ ••* ''°^''' "".^^^^ ^^^" *^^ ^°"&h calyx which WCXll 
 
 M' .#t'^.. ," encased it beautiful. We had some- fefi' ' '^ 
 
 [^1.1 
 
 /|f times spoken together of our return M§^ 
 ^ to the world we had left, but we put mM 
 , ott as long as possible all definite prep- Vi^^^> 
 \ arations. I am not sure that I should g^M 
 ^ ever have com.e back if Rosalind had flW Wl 
 not taken the matter into her own «?"« 
 hands. She remembered that there PS^ 1' ''4l 
 ^was work to be done which ought '>! 
 not to be longer postponed; that there ' '' 
 V ,^»1 ^^^^ ^"*^^s to be met which ought not j 
 ^'1 to be longer evaded ; and when did I 
 Rosalind fail to be or to do that which ^ 
 the hour and the experience com- 
 manded ? We treasured the last days 
 as if the minutes were pure gold; 
 we lingered in talk with our friends 
 as if we should never again hear 
 such spoken words; we loitered in the 
 woods as if the spell of that beautiful 
 
 ii6 
 
 ,t? 
 
 
 
 :::— . ■«..j;.,nBiikLWM»kSri.wu>i3tMiiii|g||^jj||y|[|fj 
 
 '■\ #^ 
 

 
 
 
 ,,^ _ fence would never awin ♦ u W^W;**""! 
 
 gaili And yet we Imew T. °"='' "«• »>«! 
 f«1P5| ^^^ed/theseThin^s wer '^'' T' '"'- rkfM 
 
 '^^"f 'W were p. . -|W 
 
 ff turned .he fey r'.hrlt' Cfc'i-i'i ^^ 
 g*4,n of life and work Tho u ^o"na rij "i "'f 
 

 I i 
 
 l»:'" 
 
 'l. 
 
 \l ' 
 
 I) 
 
 ri 
 
 »i. r ' ) 
 
 
 
 
 Si'4tr^v>^ gloom, and I realised, with a ioy too [^.'^Mi^'i s 
 *|3/^:^Wjl::;ii deep for words or tears, that I had f ^^^^£i 
 fc''^M^'%^' -'"I b^o^g^t the best of Arden with me. | .p?^?p5 
 l^^l We talked little during those first days W/j'^ 
 of our home-coming, but we set the 
 house in order, we recalled to the 
 lonely rooms the old associations, and 
 we quietly took up the cares and bur- p 
 dens we had dropped. It was not | 
 easy at first, and there w re days when | 
 we were both heartsore; but we waited i 
 and worked and hoped. Our neigh- | 
 hours found tis more silent and absorbed 
 than of old, but neither that change nor 
 our absence seemed to have made 
 any impression upon them. Indeed, we 
 even doubted if they knew that we 
 had taken such a journey. Day by 
 day we stepped into the old places and 
 fell into the old habits, until all the 
 brol en threads of our life were reunited 
 and we were apparently as much a part 
 of the world as if we had never gone 
 
 feVi^ 
 
 ;®2-y 
 
 
 ii8 
 
 vi 
 
 ?i«a 
 
 ■*s^ 
 
 
 ,"...'ilViill!ill'i.i.iiiNI 
 
 
 ■■(:■' ■l''i''H 
 
%y% 
 
 
 
 •-'-•rwi'' 
 
 ^/l 
 
 r; 
 
 ^I'l 
 
 VJ^A 
 
 
 re: 
 
 
 '(I*-/ 
 
 '\'*/> ^r' 
 
 1' 
 
 «if: 
 
 ¥ 
 
 ■l^i' 
 
 ■ '^^tf:*::-'/' 
 
 .^, 
 
 &? 
 
 
 K 
 
 >t?(, out of it and found a nobler and happier I 
 
 la 
 
 sphere. " " fjtf^l 
 
 But there came to us gradually ajij 
 
 '% 
 
 '-^. '^ 
 
 /f^fjij Clear consciousness that, though we V 
 
 ■ 4^ were in the world, we were not of it, ^•' 
 
 I nor ever again could be. It was no 
 
 .^ U. 
 
 'rJ^o^S:^'; our" world; its standai^s^ Tsii^}^^,' 
 
 I'AIL^' ^'V* ^?"^^y i^ it; on the con- f/ f jF ,' # 
 
 i|>^trary, when the first impression of .# fr^rj !. 
 
 |,t-%] strangeness wore off, we were happier » -.,^ 'ti 
 
 jj than we had ever been in the old days. S^? ^ 11 
 
 ^-^m'fi?"' J^P,"*^*i°" ^^s "o longer in the i^i^ ^^f 
 
 m 
 
 W . d 
 
 reputation was no longex ui me . .. 
 
 r^^ longer at the mercy of rising or falling l^k^i^] 
 -^^ markets; our plans and hopes were noK>:^^4%| 
 longer subject to chance and changeMj^ ' <' 
 I We had a possession in the Forest off^^^r.^J 
 aArden, and we had friends and dreams t<» ^^ 
 there beyond the empire of time andJ^i^^ 
 fate. And when we compared the^aJ^'^F .,^ 
 security of our fortunes with the vicis- ' 
 situdes to which the estates of our 
 
 I 
 

 m 
 
 r 
 
 ■( 
 
 .^. 
 
 I! I, 
 
 *fr 
 
 ! L ', 
 
 ''. 
 
 
 r I 
 
 
 m 
 
 i'*' 
 
 I 
 
 r: J 
 
 ,j.r 
 
 I'J 
 
 h 
 
 •%>, .... 
 
 ^^^.. 
 
 rf^l! 
 
 ' .11 11 vi ''i^wropJi 
 
 neighbours were exposed; when we ^h'^TJ^!: 
 compared our noble-hearted friends fes%)i^i' ^^^ 
 '^'Z-if'^i with their meaner companionships ; ,''''' ^^^Vf^S 
 w/^^Jjj^il when we compared the peaceful seren- [^'i^i'^^^i^li ^fSj 
 WiiiWM ity of our hearts with their perplexities i|?Sil% 
 ^ 'i and anxieties, we were filled with in- 
 
 i^iJ expressible sympathy. We no longer |ll'^^'^ 
 
 pierced them with the arrows of satire 1 
 
 
 . J -.^ lived in Arden, and why should we '^/jt, ^^ ,Sf| 
 'ilJ^I berate them for not possessing that fel/i ^ou: '^ 
 which had never been withm their W 
 reach ? We saw that upon those whom W 
 an inscrutable fate has led through thej 
 paths of Arden a great and noble duty 
 is laid. They are not to be the scorners 
 and despisers of those whose eyes are 
 holden that they cannot see, and whose 
 ears are stopped that they cannot hear, 
 the vision and the melody of things j 
 ideal. They are rather to be eyes to 
 
««.'■;..« 
 
 rer 
 
 
 ii# 
 
 are to interpret in unshalc*>n f.^.c* .„j W*'^/' J 
 
 [JteiW ^'!. *° '"^'P'^* ^ unshaken trust and IfW^^^ 
 L.4kiliMiM patience that which has been revealed ^^2^ ' 
 to them; servants are they of the IdeaL 
 and their ministry is their exceeding great n 
 
 It IS small matter to them that their Mm mZMB 
 message is rejected, the mighty conso- P|^ 
 
 !" ^ 3^1 lation which they bring refused; their ^^i^C 
 jLfiy;^: joy does not han? on acrgnt;,nr<, ,^« Irt-r.bfc./Ji.i^i 
 
 i'<l'a| ilji :,?v • J y ^""s reiused; tlieir m ., 
 
 U:fkm joy does not hang on acceptance or U-f^ 
 
 ^,.v;!;it"^ P taction at the hands of their fellows, pfc 
 
 '■:>■' 'Ml ..JiOf:^ 1 ne onlv real los^fs at.* tK.^c.^ ,„u^ .. .ft »1^r:;: ' 
 
 ■^(Ni.ii ■. r ■ ■,'.'11 if'li 
 
 j|s^te: The only real losers are those who will *^'if' ^''' i 
 jjl^f:,! not see nor hear. It is not the light- t'^'i^M^''''s 
 
 «■ yilli 
 
 feu torn from his hands; it is those whose l-l '"^'i-V ' 
 ll*; P^'ns he would lighten. iMli'('» ill'1 
 
 Mil And m^ and more, as the days P** 
 py '^nt by. Rosalind and I found the life Mmy'U. 
 
 .^^""u ^' °''' ■""""'""y ^^= gone, iiL*' 
 III *' °'.'' weariness and depression crossed Ifliill 
 M our threshold no more. If work was iiiffc 
 
 ^fcjpressmg, we were always looldng y||yn 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiir'«'l!G?«":— ^ 
 
 wa 
 
 |filr!;„;^!ii!i!|lfff.i 
 
 IffN -L' 'lllii. 
 
?^ 
 
 f 
 
 
 m 
 
 t 
 
 ?(■ 
 
 fj 
 
 
 Mr 
 
 !l|, 
 
 1 '5| 
 
 , (! 
 
 ... vJ 
 
 I ill 
 
 
 ^v;*!^ 
 
 ':*', 
 
 ;^^!<( 
 
 -''<.,?IW 
 
 il^^^k'L °"^^ ^"^ ^^y^*"^ ^*' ^^ saw the^ 
 
 fi^V ^*>^ 'l ^"^ ^^^"^*^ ^^*** ^^^^ ^^^"g accomplished f- r.12fimi 
 
 r V#^< y '" '*' ^^ recognised the high necessity 4*^^-!^ 
 
 r i^^^'l ^^^^^ imposed it. If perplexities and |-'^*^ 
 
 I' ft . v-^.f cares sat with us at the fireside, we f W}'^''' 
 
 ■"■ 'received them as friends; for in thzi'^^'i 
 
 light of Arden had we not seen their i »!^ 
 
 harsh masks removed, and behind them I f? ' 
 
 the benignant faces of those who pa- mSms 
 
 tiently serve and minister, and receive «^ 
 
 no reward save fear and avoidance and ^^*''** 
 
 misconception ? In fact, having lived in 
 
 Arden, and with the consciousness that W^'''*M')^''TA 
 
 we might seek shelter there as in P# 1>^ 
 
 another and securer home, the world M^^^-f^ 
 
 barely touched us, save to awaken our ^ "*^^^^^^ 
 
 sympathies and to evoke our help. It P^^ 
 
 had little to give us; we had much to 
 
 give it. There was within and about 
 
 us a peace and joy which were not for 
 
 us alone. Our little home was folded 
 
 within impalpable walls, and beyond it -,^ ^ 
 
 lay a vision of green foliage and golden Ix 
 
 ^ 
 
 i^VAiikLXk^Wt 
 
 18 
 
 -_- il ^ISiliffl ill 
 
 .tjmii.t, ,^^f,,„i; 
 
 

 i'M^^ ' P^^sses of cloud that never faded off the 
 
 Jk KS' i ^"^°"* ^^^^^ "^^^^ benignant pres-^ 
 IWw.'f^ ) f"^^'^ ^" °"*' *'°°"^s visible to no eyes L 
 '' V^ J:?' J but ours; for our Arden friends did| 
 'jnot forsake us. .There were memories 'i 
 
 
 MM 
 
 »« beautiful with the consciousness ofillJi 
 ffW immortal faith and love; there were I^IUm 
 ■SJ#i hopes which, like celestial beings Jo^ l|E« 
 U'it^F?^ "s w^t^ eyes deep with unspeak-I^W^^ 
 l^^m^^ P«*ophecy as they waited at theiPi^^' 
 ll:j,t^i doors of the future. llli:': 
 
 ' W/a '*f^^ ^^ autumn afternoon, and the a rj^ 
 |i| sun lies warm on the ripening vines that PT*? 
 
 miTV^^^.^^^^^'"'^ °" *^^ ^^te flowers m^ 
 ill u^* ^^°°"] H^ /^f '°^^^^^^' As I write Pill 
 ^1 thesewords look up from my portfolio, i^M 
 >^.» J ^"^ Kosalind sits there, work in hand ^ ^--Mh 
 Wm'^T ^* ""' over her flying needle;|« 
 I'll ^y 2^^"ce rests on her a moment, andf-"^ 
 III a strange uncertainty comes over me. I 
 i ^^ve I really been in Arden, or have f i 
 
m 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 (-1 ' '/' 
 
 !'■, vH 
 
 ' ifi 
 
 
 I 
 
 h 
 
 
 a 
 
 
into k'^SX^S 
 
 hm 
 
 *sii;r''«'"i 
 
 
 W'