transparent leaf. This effect is very lovely in the young season of
the year, when the leaves are more delicate and less crowded; and
especially in the early morning, when the light is most clear and
penetrating. By the way, I do not think any man is compelled to bid
good-bye to his childhood: every man may feel young in the morning,
middle-aged in the afternoon, and old at night. A day corresponds
to a life, and the portions of the one are "pictures in little" of
the seasons of the other. Thus far man may rule even time, and
gather up, in a perfect being, youth and age at once.

One morning, about six o'clock, Hugh, who had never been so early in
the wood since the day he had met Margaret there, was standing under
a beech-tree, looking up through its multitudinous leaves,
illuminated, as I have attempted to describe, with the sidelong rays
of the brilliant sun. He was feeling young, and observing the forms
of nature with a keen discriminating gaze: that was all. Fond of
writing verses, he was studying nature, not as a true lover, but as
one who would hereafter turn his discoveries to use. For it must be
confessed that nature affected him chiefly through the medium of
poetry; and that he was far more ambitious of writing beautiful
things about nature than of discovering and understanding, for their
own sakes, any of her hidden yet patent meanings. Changing his
attitude after a few moments, he descried, under another beech-tree,
not far from him, Margaret, standing and looking up fixedly as he
had been doing a moment before. He approached her, and she, hearing
his advance, looked, and saw him, but did not move. He thought he
saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She was the first to speak,
however.

"What were you seeing up there, Mr. Sutherland?"