Under the trees . ^^^1^ ?-m: which I always make hitherward the worldslips away with the village that sinks be-hind the hill at the tirst turn and remindsme no longer by sight or sound that lifeis fretting its channels there and every-where with its world-old pathos and onwardmovement, caught on the sudden by un-seen currents and swept into wild eddies,or tlung over a precipice in a mist of 1 go on 1 feel a return of emotionswhich 1 am sure have their root in myearliest ancestry, a freshening of sense whichtells me that 1 am nearing again thosescenes which the unworn perceptions ofpri
Under the trees . ^^^1^ ?-m: which I always make hitherward the worldslips away with the village that sinks be-hind the hill at the tirst turn and remindsme no longer by sight or sound that lifeis fretting its channels there and every-where with its world-old pathos and onwardmovement, caught on the sudden by un-seen currents and swept into wild eddies,or tlung over a precipice in a mist of 1 go on 1 feel a return of emotionswhich 1 am sure have their root in myearliest ancestry, a freshening of sense whichtells me that 1 am nearing again thosescenes which the unworn perceptions ofprimitive men first fronted. The conscious,self-directed intellectual movement withinme seems somehow to cease, and some-thing deeper, older, fuller of mystery, takesits place; the instincts assert themselves,and 1 am dimly conscious of an elder worldthrough which 1 once walked—and yetnot I, but some one whose memory liesback of my memory, as the farthest, faint-est hills fade into infinity on the boundariesof th
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectnatural, bookyear1902
