FLORIDA DAYS.


tery of the sea and stars. The soul slips into
it all in some strange way, and knows itself
only a heart-beat in the million heart-beats of
the pulse of God. The stately rhythm of the
waves folding along the shore is so certain in its
monotony that by and by the ear becomes un-
conscious of it; and there is the same uncon-
sciousness of the stars, swinging down like
censers through the darkness, each one a globe
of light, so soft, so joyous, that the whole eye
sees only light, and so is not aware of it.
There is nothing in the soul but a content
which knows no words and desires none.
 Out in the rose-garden, in this soft glitter of
 the night, the roses have lost their deep and
 glowing colors, and have caught instead a pale,
 phosphorescent light, as though each mirrored
 dimly its own star. Shadows suck the greenness
 from the leaves, and they are black, save for
 glistening drops in the little notches along the
 edge, while across the bosom of each flower the
 dew is folded in a silver mist. The fragrance
 of the roses is the dark air itself; it saturates
everything; it almost blurs.the stars. It seems