They would need at least ten
more days to convince them into downright summer greenery, even though
slender-throated doves already mated in their tops with a perfect
confidence.
It was an early morning hour, when it was easy to believe in the perfect
fitness of Little Arcady's name; an hour in a time when the
Potts-troubled waters had been mercifully stilled by the hand of God; an
hour when the spirit of each Little Arcadian might share to its own
fulness in the large serenity of the ageless world-soul.
I recalled Mrs. Potts's paper on "The Lesson of Greek Art," which had
enriched two columns of the _Argus_ after its reading to the ladies of
the Literary and Home Study Club. It seemed to me that the Greeks must
have divined this important secret of the vegetable world--the secret of
ageless time--and that therein lay the charm of them; that spirit of
ever freshening joy which they chiselled and sang into tangible grace
for us of a later and heavier age.
At the moment I was on the porch, waiting for my coffee, and my thought
seemed to be shared by Jim, my bony young setter, who, being but a scant
year old, had not yet forgotten the lesson of Greek art. Over the grassy
stretch before the porch he chased robins tirelessly, though with
indifferent success.
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