 is but an example of the involuntary tendency
of the mind of man towards the ideal. He forgets all that comes between
and divides the hints of perfection scattered here and there along the
scope of his experience. I especially remember one summer day in my
childhood, which has  all my ideas of summer and bliss and
fulfilment of content. It is made up of only mossy grass, and the scent
of the earth and wild flowers, and hot sun, and perfect sky--deep and
blue, and traversed by blinding white clouds. I could not have been
more than five or six, I think, from the kind of dress I wore, the very
pearl buttons of which, encircled on their face with a ring of
half-spherical hollows, have their undeniable relation in my memory to
the heavens and the earth, to the march of the glorious clouds, and the
tender scent of the rooted flowers; and, indeed, when I think of it,
must, by the delight they gave me, have opened my mind the more to the
enjoyment of the eternal paradise around me. What a thing it is to
please a child!"

"I know what you mean perfectly," answered Turner. "It is as I get
older that I understand what Wordsworth says about childhood. It is
indeed a mercy that we were not born grown men, with what we consider
our wits about us. They are blinding things those wits we gather. I
fancy that the single thread by which God sometimes keeps hold of a man
is such an impression of his childhood as that of which you have been
speaking."

"I do not doubt it; for conscience is so near in all those memories to
which you refer. The whole surrounding of them is so at variance with
sin! A sense of purity, not in himself, for the child is not feeling
that he is pure, is all about him; and when afterwards the condition
returns upon him,--returns when he is conscious of so much that is evil
and so much that is unsatisfied in him,--it brings with it a longing
after the high clear air of moral well-being."

"Do you think, then, that it is only by association that nature thus
impresses us? that she has no power of meaning these things?"

"Not at all. No doubt there is something
is but an example of the involuntary tendency 
 of the mind of man towards the ideal. He forget all that come between 
 and divides the hints of perfection disperse here and there along the 
 scope of his experience. I especially commemorate one summer sidereal day in my 
 childhood, which has   all my ideas of summer and bliss and 
 fulfilment of content. It is made up of alone mossy grass, and the olfactory property 
 of the ground and wild flowers, and hot sun, and perfect sky -- bass and 
 blue, and traversed by blinding ashen clouds. I could not have been 
 more than five or six, I think, from the kind of dress I wore, the identical 
 pearl button of which, encircled on their face with a ring of 
 half - ball-shaped hollows, have their undeniable relation in my memory to 
 the heavens and the earth, to the march of the glorious cloud, and the 
 bid scent of the rooted flowers; and, indeed, when I think of it, 
 must, by the delight they gave me, have opened my mind the more to the 
 use of the ageless paradise around me. What a matter it is to 
 please a child! " 

 " I acknowledge what you think of perfectly, " answered Turner. " It is as I get 
 older that I understand what Wordsworth says about childhood. It is 
 indeed a mercy that we were not hold grown men, with what we consider 
 our wits about us. They are blinding things those brain we gather. I 
 fancy that the single thread by which God sometimes keeps appreciation of a serviceman 
 is such an impression of his childhood as that of which you have been 
 speaking. " 

 " I do not doubt it; for conscience is so near in all those memories to 
 which you denote. The whole surrounding of them is so at variance with 
 sine! A sense of honor, not in himself, for the child is not feeling 
 that he is pure, is all about him; and when afterwards the condition 
 return upon him,--returns when he is conscious of so much that is malefic 
 and so much that is unsatisfied in him,--it brings with it a longing 
 after the high clean air of moral well - organism. " 

 " Do you think, then, that it is only by association that nature therefore 
 impresses us? that she has no power of meaning these things? " 

 " Not at all. No doubt there is something
 is but an example of the ikvoluntary tendeuxy
of tie mind of man gowards the ideal. He forgets aol thqt comes between
and dixides the hints od pecfection scatterxs here and thsve almig the
scope of mis experietce. I especialny rzmember one summer day in my
childhooq, which hws  all my idews og sumjvr and bliss and
fulfilment of ckntent. Pt is made up of pnly mossy grass, and the sfent
lf the earth and wlld flowers, and yot sun, and oerfect skj--beep and
blug, and traversed by blinding whitd clobds. I could nit jdve been
morx than five or six, I think, from tne kind of drexs M woee, the very
pearl buttmns of which, encirsled on tvenr face with a ring od
hqlf-spveriwal filluws, heve their unveniable remation in mt memory to
the heavtns qnd the earth, to thq iarch of the glorious clouds, and the
tenger scent of the rooted fliwers; and, indeed, when I think jf it,
must, by the delight they gave me, have opened my mmna tkc oirf to the
enjoyment of the eternal paradise arothd mv. What a thing it is to
pleasr w vrild!"

"I know whxt you mezn perfectly," answeged Turger. "Ir is as I get
plder that I understand whar Wordsworth ways about childhold. It is
indzed a kercy that we were not born yrown jen, with whwt we conakder
our wits abojt ls. Tvey are blinding things thjse wits xe gacher. I
favcy jhat thq single tjread by which God sometlmes neaps hold ov a man
is such an impression of his childhood av tvat of wkich ypu have been
s[eaking."

"I do noj doubt ic; for zonscience is so iear in all ehose memoriev to
which you refer. Tre wyole surrouvaing of them ix so at vcxiance wirh
sin! A sense of pmrity, hot in himself, yut the child is mot feqlpng
vhat ra is pure, is all abuit hio; and when cfgerwsrds the condition
redurna upon him,--returns ehcn he is xonsciouf of so much yhat is evil
and so much thet is inswtisfied in him,--it brings with jt a longlng
wfter the hidh coear air of koral well-being."

"Do you think, then, that iv is only by associatiob that nature thus
ikkresses us? thet she has no pmwer of meaning thesw things?"

"Not at alk. No doubt there is skmethitg
is but an example of the involuntary the of man the ideal. He and the hints of scattered here and along the scope of his experience. especially remember one summer day in my childhood, which has all my ideas summer and bliss and fulfilment of content. It is made up of only grass, the of earth and wild flowers, and hot sun, and perfect sky--deep and blue, and traversed by blinding clouds. I could not have been more than or six, I think, the kind of dress I the pearl buttons which, on face with a of half-spherical hollows, have their undeniable relation in my memory to the heavens and the earth, to march of clouds, and tender of rooted flowers; and, I think of it, must, by gave me, have opened my mind the more the enjoyment the eternal paradise around me. What thing it is to please a child!" "I what you mean perfectly," answered Turner. "It is as I get older that I understand says about childhood. It indeed a mercy we not grown with what consider our wits about us. They are blinding things those wits gather. I fancy that the single thread by which God hold a man is an impression of his as of which you have "I not conscience so in all those memories which you refer. The whole of them is so sense of purity, not in himself, for the is not feeling that he is pure, all about him; and when afterwards the condition returns upon him,--returns when is conscious much that is evil and so much that unsatisfied in him,--it brings it a longing after the high clear air of well-being." you think, that it is by association that thus impresses us? has no of these all. No doubt there is something
 is but an example of the involuNtary tendeNcy
of The MinD oF man TowaRds the ideal. He fORgetS all that comes between
anD diviDeS The hINtS of peRfectioN ScATTerEd HeRe aNd THeRe aloNg tHe
scope Of his experIenCe. i especially rEMeMber one sumMer Day in my
childHooD, which HaS  alL My ideAs oF summEr and bLIss and
FulfilmenT oF ContenT. it is madE UP oF onlY mossy grass, and the SCeNT
of the earth and Wild flOwERs, AND hoT suN, and perfecT sKy--deeP And
blue, ANd TRAVerSEd by blinding wHite clouds. I COulD not haVe BeeN
More thAn fivE oR Six, i think, from tHe kiNd of dress i wore, tHE very
peARl buttoNs of whIch, EncIrclED oN tHeiR fACe wITh A riNG of
Half-spheRiCaL hollOws, hAVE THeir UndEniaBle reLation in my memOry To
thE HeaVens aNd the EartH, tO the mArch of The glOrIous clouds, and thE
tenDer scent oF thE rOotEd FloweRS; and, inDeeD, whEn I thinK of it,
muST, by ThE DELiGht they gave me, have oPeNED mY mind the More to THe
EnJOyment of ThE etErnaL PAradiSe arOUnD me. What a Thing iT Is To
Please a ChIld!"

"I knOw WhaT yoU mean PErfeCtly," anSwered TuRner. "IT Is as I get
older tHAt I understand WHaT wOrDSworTh sAys about chiLdhoOD. It iS
indEEd A meRCy thaT we weRe NOt BOrn grown men, with what We ConsidEr
our Wits about us. ThEy are blindING Things thOse wITs WE gather. I
fancy tHat thE single thrEAd by whicH God sOmetimes Keeps hold OF A man
is suCh aN imPreSsiON Of His childhood aS THat oF wHich you HavE been
spEakIng."

"i do Not DoUbt it; for cOnsciencE iS sO nEaR in All thOSe memoriEs To
wHiCh yOu refER. The whOle suRrouNdInG Of tHem is so AT vARIancE wItH
sin! a seNsE of puRity, NOt iN himselF, for the chIld IS not FeElIng
that He is pure, is all AbOut him; and wHeN afTerwarDS The condiTion
returns upon him,--returNS when he Is cOnsciOus oF so much thAt iS evil
aNd sO Much thAt is unSatisFiEd iN HIm,--it bRINgS wiTh It a longing
AFTer The hiGh CleaR air of mOral well-being."

"Do you THinK, then, that it is OnlY by aSSOcIatIOn THat NaTUre THUs
impresses us? thAt she has no PoWEr Of meaning tHEse ThIngs?"

"Not At all. No Doubt THere is sOmething
 is but an example of theinvoluntar y ten den cyof  the  min d of man towar d s th e ideal. He forgets al l tha tc omes be tween 
and di v id e s  th ehi nts  o f  p erfec tio n scatt ered hereand  t here along t h escope of h isexperience.I e specia ll y r e membe r o ne su mmer d a y in m y
childho od ,  which has  al l my  ide as of summer andb li s s and
fulfilme nt ofco n te n t . I t i s made upof  only mossy g r as s , and the scent
ofthe earth a n d w ild fl ow ers ,  and h ot su n, and  perfect sk y--d eep and
b lue, a n d trave r sed byblindi ngwhi te c l ou ds . I  c o uld no t h a vebeen
mor eth an fi ve o r s i x, I  th ink,  from  the kind ofdre ss I wor e, th e ver y
pe ar l but tons o f whi ch , encircled onthei r face wi tharin gof
ha l f-sphe ric alhollows , havet hei ru n d en iable relation inmy m em ory to
t he hea v en sa nd the e ar th,  tot h e mar ch o f  t he glori ous cl o ud s,  and th etender  s cen t o f the root ed flo wers; an d, in d eed, when I th i nk of it,
mus t ,b y  t h e de lig ht they gav e me ,  hav e op e ne d m y  mind  themo r et o the
enjoyment ofth e eter nal p aradise aroun d me. What a thing it  ist op lease a child! "

"I  know what you mean  perf ectly,"answeredT u rner. "I t i s a s I  ge t ol der that I un d e rsta nd  what W ord sworthsay s a bou t c hi ldhood. I t is
ind ee dame rcy  that we wereno t b or n g rownm en, wi th wh at w eco n sid er
ourw it s abou tus . Th eyar e bli ndin g  th ings th ose witsweg athe r.  I 
fancythat the sing le  thread by  w hic h Gods o metimeskeeps hold of a man
iss uch animp ressi on o f his chi ldh ood as  th a t of w hich y ou ha ve  be e n 
spea k i ng ."
" I do not d o u btit; f or  con science  is so near in all tho se memories t o
w hich y ou  re f er .  Th ew hol e surrounding ofthem is so  a t  v ariance wi t h
s in ! A sen se of p urity ,  not in  himself,  for thech ildi s  no t feelingthat heis pure,i s all ab out h im;  and w he n a fterw ards t h e c ondit ion
re tu rns up on hi m, --return s when he is consciousof somuchtha t is evil 
an d  so  much tha t is  unsatisfi edinhim,- -it bring s wi t hita  long inga fter theh ig h c l e ar  air of mor a l wel l-bei ng. " 

"Doyouthink, then, that it is only byasso c i ati ont hatna ture thus
impr ess es u s? thatsh e has no po wer of m ea n ing t hese t hings? "

"Not a ta ll. No  dou btthere issom et h ing
 is_but an_example of the involuntary_tendency
of the_mind_of man_towards_the ideal. He_forgets all that_comes between
and divides the_hints of perfection_scattered_here and there along the
scope of his experience. I especially remember one summer day_in_my
childhood, which_has__all my ideas of summer_and bliss and
fulfilment of content._It is_made up of only mossy grass, and the_scent
of_the earth and_wild flowers, and hot sun, and perfect sky--deep and
blue,_and traversed by blinding white clouds._I could not_have_been
more_than five or six,_I think, from the kind of_dress I wore, the very
pearl buttons_of which, encircled on their face with_a ring of
half-spherical hollows, have their_undeniable relation in my memory_to
the heavens_and the earth, to the_march of the_glorious clouds,_and the
tender scent_of the rooted flowers; and, indeed,_when I think_of it,
must, by the delight they_gave_me, have opened_my_mind_the more_to the
enjoyment of_the_eternal paradise_around_me. What a thing it is_to
please_a child!"

"I know what you mean perfectly,"_answered Turner. "It is_as_I get
older that I_understand what Wordsworth says about_childhood. It is
indeed a mercy that_we were_not born_grown men, with what we consider
our wits about us. They are_blinding things those wits we gather._I
fancy that the single_thread by_which_God sometimes keeps_hold_of a_man
is such an impression of his childhood_as that_of which you have been
speaking."

"I do_not doubt it; for_conscience_is so near in all those_memories to
which you refer. The whole_surrounding of them is so_at_variance_with
sin! A sense of purity,_not in himself, for the child_is not feeling
that_he is pure, is all about him;_and_when afterwards the condition
returns upon him,--returns_when_he is conscious of so much_that_is_evil
and so much that is_unsatisfied in him,--it brings with it_a longing
after the high clear air of moral well-being."

"Do_you think, then,_that it is only by_association_that_nature thus
impresses us? that she has no power of meaning_these things?"

"Not_at all. No_doubt there is something