knows not what he desires, only that he desires. Whereas I can but
remember that once I was as he is to-day. So the spring is sad for the
young as well as for the old.

But old as he was he was glad to feel that he was still liable to the
season's thrill in retrospect at least, and he asked himself questions:
how many years ago is it since...? But he did not get further with his
recollections. The ascent is too steep, he said, and he continued the
ascent thinking of his breath rather than of her.

Joseph stood waiting on the edge of the rocks and cried out in the
fulness of his joy on seeing his preceptor appear above the cliff, and
at once fell to rolling himself over and over. Just as I expected he
would, Azariah remarked to himself. And then, starting to his feet,
Joseph began gathering flowers, but in a little while he stood still,
his nosegay dropping flower by flower, for his thoughts had taken
flight. The doves, the doves! he cried, looking into the blue and white
sky. The doves have their nests in the woods, the larks build in the
grass he said, and asked Azariah to come with him. The nest was on a
tuft of grass. But I've not touched them, he said. Three years ago I
used to rob all the nests and blow the eggs, you see, for I was making a
collection. Azariah asked him if the lark would grieve for her eggs, and
Joseph answered that he supposed she would soon forget them. Hark to his
singing! and he ran on into the outskirts of the woods, coming back a
few minutes afterwards to ask Azariah to hasten, for the wood was more
beautiful than any wood he had ever seen. And if you know the trees in
which the doves build I will climb and get the nest. Doves build in
taller trees than these, in fir-trees, Azariah answered. But this is a
pretty wood, Joseph. And he looked round the quiet sunny oak wood and
began his relation that this wood was probably the remains of the