"Do you love the country as much as you seem to?" she asked, gazing
blissfully up at the dense foliage of the elm tree under which we were
resting.
"I could not love it more; it is a wonder which never ends, and an
enduring delight. If I could think that Paradise was like this day, and
this place, I would not care when death came."
"I'm so glad," she answered, with the simplicity and directness of a
child. "I have been in cities, and I don't see how a soul can live
there. It seems to me that mine would cramp and dwindle until it died if
I had to live in a big town. Even the large and beautiful places of
worship speak more of the human than of the divine. It seems that men
go because they must, and that women go to show their clothes. This is
my religion and my temple." She smiled in real joy as she waved her hand
about her in a gesture comprehending everything bounded by the horizon.
"Look at the roof of my temple. Was there ever one so high built by
mortals, and was there ever a pigment mixed that could give it the tint
which mine holds? And it is not always the same. To-day it is a pale
blue, marked with delicate lines of cloud. At twilight it will darken to
azure; to-night it will be studded with a million gems. And no prayer
falls back from that roof upon the head of the sender, for the stars are
the portholes through which they go to heaven. Do you never think that
way?"