The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-05-18
ANoTHER POINT or VIEW

Spirit of place. 1t is for this we travel
to surprise its subtety; and where it is a
strong and dominant angel, that place,
seen once, abides entire in the memory
with all its own Incidents, its habits, its
breath, its name"
''These [ItalianI hamlet bells are the
sweetest, as to their own voices, in the
world. At that time they must
have had foundries for bells of tender
voices and pure, warm, light and golden
threats precisely tuned"
"a merry heart goes all the day: the
Wrists never grew weary. Honest men
never grow tired of bread or of any other
daily things whereof the sweetness is in
their own simplicity"
eff one could so by all the woods, across
all the old forests that are now meadow
lands set with trees and could walk a
county, gathering trees of a single kind in
the mind, walks garden, collecting
flowers of a single kind in the hand. would
not the harvest be a harvest of poplars?"
I'm the shallow rivers that fall through
chestnut woods the image is mingled with
the mobile figures of leaves. To all these
waters the agile air has perpetual access.
Not great towns be watered, it will
be said with reason; and this is precisely
the i'll luck of great towns"
ITO mount hill is to lift with you some
thing lighter and brighter than yourself
or than any meaner burden. You lift the
world; you raise the horizon; you give a
signal for the distance to stand up. 1t is
like the scene in the Vatican, when a car
dinal, with his dramatic Italian hands.
bids the kneeling groups to rise"
1.-The evening is the shadow of another
fight. All the birds have traced wild and
innumerable paths across the midway
earth; their shadows have fled faster all
day than her streams and have overtaken
all the movement of her wingless crea-
lures. But, now. it is the fight of the
very earth that carries her clasped shadow
from the sun"
ia is in the hours of sleep that the mind.
by some divine paradox, has the EXTREMIST
sense of light Almost the most shining
lines in English poetry-lines that cast
sunrise shadows--are those of Blake, writ
ten, confessediy, from the side of night.
the side of sorrow and dreams, and those
dreams the dreams of little chimney
sweepers; all is as dark as he can make it
with the bags of SCOT, but the boys dream
OF the green plain and the river is too
bright for day."
In Dickens there is conspicuous
genius for words, which the habitual in
difference OF his time. of his readers and
of his contemporaries in letters could not
quench. never read him, but l undergo a
new conviction of his authorship, of the
vitality Of his dietion, springing. striking.
making way through the burden of Gus
TOM
Fancy in Charles Dickens is the most
vigilant elf that ever lurked in brilliant
human senses. Fancy has her own prose
style, though doubtless imagination in
spires more OF the ultimate peace that
seems 10 contain the tempests of great
tragedies. But fancy has both a vulgar
prose and a fine; the fine assuredly is his.
the ariel-like delicacy OF his images
and illusions and the simplicity of his
caprice resembling the simplicity of an un-
preoccupied child.
Carol also took the brilliant opportunity
OF the hour of sleep. In some landscapes
Of his carly manner be has the very light