40 FLORIDA DAYS.

cells overlooking the sea would have shud-
dered, could they have guessed that instead of
the convent-bell at dawn there would be the
gay rattle of the reveille, and the tread of mar-
tial feet across the worn flags in the courtyard !
Very -likely the world does not know whether
it is the better or the worse for the change;
the difference between a saint in the doorway,
reading a breviary, with placid down-dropped
eyes, and a sleepy boy, with a musket across
his shoulder, pacing- up and down beside the
sea-wall, is not great enough for choice. Yet
who will measure the force of that thin, high
spirituality which once filled these walls, or
say that the boy himself is not the better, for
prayers he never said? His- rollicking song
when off duty has surely an unheard refrain!
 We are shut in by mystery when we would
 follow the flight of wonder from the safety of
 our ark of commonplace. They were wiser,
 those saints. They amused themselves with
 dreams of heaven which, having always a like-
 ness to the well-known and familiar face of
 earth, brought no confusion and perplexity with