"Be of good cheer," saith a heavenly voice, "I
have overcome the world."
Lord, lend thy strength to those who are weak in the flesh, but willing
in the spirit!
October 31, 1852. (Lancy.)--Walked for half an hour in the garden. A
fine rain was falling, and the landscape was that of autumn. The sky was
hung with various shades of gray, and mists hovered about the distant
mountains, a melancholy nature. The leaves were falling on all sides
like the last illusions of youth under the tears of irremediable grief.
A brood of chattering birds were chasing each other through the
Shrubberies, and playing games among the branches, like a knot of hiding
schoolboys. The ground strewn with leaves, brown, yellow, and reddish;
the trees half-stripped, some more, some less, and decked in ragged
splendors of dark-red, scarlet, and yellow; the reddening shrubs and
plantations; a few flowers still lingering behind, roses, nasturtiums,
dahlias, shedding their petals round them; the bare fields, the thinned
hedges; and the fir, the only green thing left, vigorous and stoical,
like eternal youth braving decay; all these innumerable and marvelous
symbols which forms colors, plants, and living beings, the earth and the
sky, yield at all times to the eye which has learned to look for them,
charmed and enthralled me.
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