No one shall learn from me where the
House of Bellasyze lies; but I will revisit it spring by spring, like a
hidden treasure of beauty.
The result of these perfect days, full of life and freshness, with all
the loveliness and without the languors of spring, is to produce in me
a perfectly inconsequent mood of happiness, which is better than any
amount of philosophical consolation. The air, the breeze, the flying
hour are all full of delight. Everything is touched with a fine savour
and quality, whether it be the wide view over the dappled plain, the
blue waters of the lonely dyke, the old farm-house blinking pleasantly
among its barns and outbuildings, the tall church-tower that you see
for miles over the flat, the busy cawing of rooks in the village grove;
the very people that one meets wear a smiling and friendly air, from
the old labourer trudging slowly home, to the jolly, smooth-faced
ploughboy riding a big horse, clanking and plodding down the highway.
One sees the world as it was meant to be made; a life in the open air,
labour among the wide fields, seems the joyful lot of man. The very
food that one eats by the quick-set thorn on the edge of a dyke, where
the fish poise and hang in dark pools, has a finer savour, and is like
a sacrament of peace; hour after hour, from morning to sunset, one can
range without weariness and without care, one's thoughts reduced to a
mere flow of gentle perceptions, murmuring along like a clear stream.
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