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evening time, and the birds greet the purpling east with their sweetest songs. No one may know how cheerful, how far reaching, how thrilling the singing of birds may be unless he has listened to them telling the gladness of the morning while the last star melts in the glowing east.
Then, too, what a journey is this when we look forward to the glad meeting with friends who knew the horrors of the World War and whom a kind Providence permitted to return to their native land. During those awful days spent in the halls of suffering and death near Verdun there were found many golden chains of friendship, and we thought--
"Better than grandeur, better than gold, Than rank or title a hundred-fold, Is a healthy body and a mind at ease, And simple pleasures that always please, A heart that can feel for a neighbor's woe, And share in his joy with a friendly glow, With sympathies large enough to infold All men as brothers, is better than gold."
Gold has no power to purchase true friendship and only eternal things are given away. So, what matters it whether we travel east or west as long as our souls retain the freshness and fragrance of the early morning's hours? We can be our own alchemists, and through the gray vapors of our poor lives transmute them into golden flowers of character that shall gleam and sparkle as the evening of our closing days draw near, like coruscating stars in the violet dusk of our twilight sky.
Nature seemed to have adorned herself richly for our departure; no sky could have been more blue, no grass more green and no trees more full of glistening leaves and singing birds. There was an indescribable freshness and glory on the sunny hills and shining sky. The breeze sifted through the trees and over the rim of the circling slopes, causing the maple leaves to show silver and wafting fragrance from a thousand fountains of sweetness. At brief intervals the loud, rich notes of the Maryland Yellow Throat and the high pitched song of the indigo bunting resounded from the bushes near Glen-Miller park of Richmond, Ind. A cardinal shot across the road like a burning arrow, and his ringing challenge was answered by the softly warbled notes of a bluebird; while down by the spring came the liquid song of the wood thrush, pure, clear, and serene, speaking the soul of the dewy morn.
We did not say our prayers, but paused reverently beneath the broad leaved maple in the park to listen to the thrushes' matin and knelt at the crystal flowing spring to fill our water bottles. As we were thus employed a red squirrel, who had the idea that the whole park was his, crossed and recrossed our path to see what strange creatures dare intrude at his drinking fountain. Coming nearer, chattering and scolding as only a red squirrel can, he began a speculation as to our character in rapid broken coughs and sniffs, pouring forth a torrent of threatening abuse in his snickering wheezy manner; "but, like some people you may know, his defiance was mostly bluster--he loves to make a noise." Yet, unlike his human brother (while being a busybody and prying into the affairs of his neighbors), he is a most provident creature, laying up ample stores for winter days of need.
Leaving the squirrel in undisputed possession of the park, we followed the winding road past glowing beds of flowers, which are worth considering like "the lilies of the field, for they preach to us if we but can hear." Before God created man He placed all necessary things for the development of that greatest of undeveloped resources in the world, the human soul, and beauty is not the least of these:
"All ground is hallowed ground, And every bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes."
At all seasons there is a harvest of beauty for him who is willing to pay the price. But "nature and art are veiled goddesses, and only love and humility draw the curtains."
We turned away reluctantly from a scene so fair as that of the charming homes of Richmond, with their well-kept lawns amid their settings of vines, flowers and shrubs, doubly picturesque, lying broad and warm amid their encircling hills. It was a happy fortune for the city that White Water river, with its sinuous course crowned with sycamore trees, passes it. If we are a part of all we have ever met then our lives shall be richer for having contemplated those lovely homes, among the lovelier hills. If our environment helps make our character, then give us more parks and quiet retreats among the hills, where from the breezy uplands we get broader, clearer views.
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