英国文化选本

Dreams I thought that it was a Sunday morning in May；that it was Easter Sunday，and as yet very early in the morning．1was standing，as it seemed to me，at the door of mv own cottage．Right before me lay the very scene which could re-ally be commanded~from that situation， but exalted。 as was usual，and solemnised by the power of dreams． Therewere the same mountains，and the same lovely valley attheir feet； but the mountains were raised to more thanAlpine height，and there was interspace far larger betweenthem of savannahs and forest lawns；the hedges were richwith white roses；and no living creature was to be seen。excepting that in the green churchyard there were cattle tran—quilly reposing upon the verdant graves，and particularlyround about the grave of a child whom I had once tenderlyloved，just as I had really beheld them，a little before sun—rise，in the same summer when that child died．I gazed uponthe well—known scene，and I said to myself，“It yet wantsmuch of sunrise；and it is Easter Sunday；and that is theday on which they celebrate the first——fruits of Resurrection．I will walk abroad；old griefs shall be forgotten to—day：for the air is cool and still，and the hills are high，andstretch away to heaven；and the churchyard is as verdant asthe forest lawns，and the forest lawns are as quiet as thechurchyard；and with the dew I can wash the fever from myforehead；and then I shall be unhappy no longer．”I turned，as if to open my garden gate，and immediately I saw uponthe left a scene far different；but which yet the power ofdreams had reconciled into harmony．The scene was an ori—ental one：and there also it was Easter Sunday，and veryearly in the morning．And at a vast distance were visible，as a stain upon the horizon．the domes and cupolas of a great city an image or faint abstraction，caught perhaps in child—hood from some picture of Jerusalem．And not a bowshot from me，upon a stone，shaded by Judean~palms，there sata wom