CHAPTER III

hildshehadbeenmadetowritedowneverynight,inasmall,hated,blacknotebook,alltheminutesshehadspentinidlenessthatday.OnSundayshermothermadehertotthemupandprayoverthem. OnthisparticularforenoonofthisdayofdestinyValancyspentonlytenminutesinidleness.Atleast,Mrs.FrederickandCousinStickleswouldhavecalleditidleness.ShewenttoherroomtogetabetterthimbleandsheopenedThistleHarvestguiltilyatrandom. “Thewoodsaresohuman,”wroteJohnFoster,“thattoknowthemonemustlivewiththem.Anoccasionalsaunterthroughthem,keepingtothewell-troddenpaths,willneveradmitustotheirintimacy.Ifwewishtobefriendswemustseekthemoutandwinthembyfrequent,reverentvisitsatallhoursbymorning,bynoon,andbynightandatallseasons,inspring,insummer,inautumn,inwinter.Otherwisewecanneverreallyknowthemandanypretencewemaymaketothecontrarywillneverimposeonthem.Theyhavetheirowneffectivewayofkeepingaliensatadistanceandshuttingtheirheartstomerecasualsightseers.Itisofnousetoseekthewoodsfromanymotiveexceptsheerloveofthemtheywillfindusoutatonceandhidealltheirsweet,old-worldsecretsfromus.Butiftheyknowwecometothembecausewelovethemtheywillbeverykindtousandgiveussuchtreasuresofbeautyanddelightasarenotboughtorsoldinanymarket-place.Forthewoods,whentheygiveatall,giveunstintedlyandholdnothingbackfromtheirtrueworshippers.Wemustgotothemlovingly,humbly,patiently,watchfully,andweshalllearnwhatpoignantlovelinesslurksinthewildplacesandsilentintervals,lyingunderstarshineandsunset,whatcadencesofunearthlymusicareharpedonagedpineboughsorcroonedincopsesoffir,whatdelicatesavoursexhalefrommossesandferns