A Summer Noon The stir of the morning has given place to a silence broken only by the shrill whir of the locust.

The distant shore lines that ran clear and white against the low background of green have become dim and indistinct; all things are touched by a soft haze which changes the sentiment of the landscape from movement to repose, from swift and multitudinous activity to the hush of sleep.

The intense blue of the morning sky is dimmed and the great masses of trees are motionless.
The distant harvest fields where the rhythmic lines of the mowers have moved alert and harmonious through the morning hours are deserted.

On earth silence and rest, and in the great arch of the sky a sea of light so full and splendid that it seems almost to dim the fiery effluence of the sun itself.

In such an hour one stretches himself under the trees, and in a moment the spell is on him, and he cares neither to think nor act; he rejoices to lose himself in the universal repose with which Nature refreshes herself.