But there is the rustle of branches in the morning breeze； there is the music of a sunny shower against the window； there is the matin song of birds。 Several times lately I have lain wakeful when there sounded the first note of the earliest lark； it makes me almost glad of my restless nights。 The only trouble that touches me in these moments is the thought of my long life wasted amid the senseless noises of man's world。 Year after year this spot has known the same tranquillity； with ever so little of good fortune； with ever so little wisdom； beyond what was granted me； I might have blessed my manhood with calm； might have made for myself in later life a long retrospect of bowered peace。 As it is； I enjoy with something of sadness； remembering that this melodious silence is but the prelude of that deeper stillness which waits to enfold us all。
XXIV
Morning after morning； of late； I have taken my walk in the same direction； my purpose being to look at a plantation of young larches。 There is no lovelier colour on earth than that in which they are now clad； it seems to refresh as well as gladden my eyes； and its influence sinks deep into my heart。 Too soon it will change； already I think the first radiant verdure has begun to pass into summer's soberness。 The larch has its moment of unmatched beauty……and well for him whose chance permits him to enjoy it； spring after spring。
Could anything be more wonderful than the fact that here am I； day by day； not on