At the Spring The path across the fields is so well worn that one can find his way along its devious course by night almost as easily as by day.

I have gone over it at all hours, and have never returned without some fresh and cheering memory for other and less favoured days.

The fields across which it leads one, with the unfailing suggestion of something better beyond, are undulating and dotted here and there with browsing cattle.

The landscape is full of pastoral repose and charm--the charm of familiar things that are touched with old memories, and upon whose natural beauty there rests the reflected light of days that have become idyllic.

No one can walk along a country road over which as a boy he heard the daily invitation of the schoolhouse bell without discovering at every turn some loveliness never revealed save to the glance of unforgotten youth.