The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-04-22

I She could have-danced-s Shs wanted some physical expression O1 her feeling. Then the excitement set tied down to a quiet tingling happi- ness, a sense of peace which was inef- fable and complete.
 ". if that all of animated nature Be but organic harps Adversely framed That tremble into thought as OCT them sweeps
 Plastic and vast one intellectual breeze At once the soul of each and God of all."
 So sung. century before. a poet of that sweet cult of the school centred in the very area in which she moved; and if his thoughts were true there was a true act of worship that sunny after noon on the rising hills beyond the lake head.For happiness is not merely to be at rest. It is to be with God, to carry out to the full His wish that His
 children should appreciate and enjoy the powers and good things given them by His hands. And when that happi- ness is based on love-and there is no true happiness on aught that is not high-the love itself is of the soul and quivers with the Tapping of it's wings. Then indeed can we realize that mar vellous promise of the words of the Master:
 Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God" Wordsworth and those who held with him saw God and worshipped Him in those myriad beau- ties of the lake they loved; and as the beauty and it's immortal truth SoOthed and purified their souls, so was the spirit of the love-sick girl cleansed of all dross. How at such a time, when a soul swan free in grateful worship, was there place for anything that was not clean? Her father thought, as he looked at her and heard the ring of her voice. that he had never seen her look better or happier. She was full of spir- it's, gay, sweet, tender; and yet there was over her such a grace of gentle gravity that the old man felt himself saying to hiInsel:
 My little girl is a woman!'
 That mellow afternoon was to her lovely; the trees and shrubs, the flow CTS, the fields. The singing of the birds was ethereal music the lights and shadows were the personal manifesto ton of Natures God. Her heart, her sympathy, her nature were at full tide; all overflowing and in their plentitude full.
 The long summer afternoon faded into the softneSs of twilight during the yielding to it's mysterious influence which made Joy so still; perhaps 1t was that she was drawing nearer to the man whom she adored. Her fath- CT neither know nor took note of it. He saw that his little girl was silent in an ecstacy of happiness in that soft twilight of which she had spoken so tenderly; and he was content. He too sat silent, yielding himself to the in huence of the beauty around him.
 When they reached the hotel Joy seemed to wake from a. dream; she had lost none of her present placidity. none of her content One form Of hap piness had given way to another, that was all. As she stood on the steps, waiting whilst her father was giving the coachman his instructions for the morrow, she t41ed to peer into the lilac bushes in the garden. She had a sort of intuition-nay more than an intui- tion, an actual certainty-that He was again behind them. And once more she stood and moved that he might see her face as he would. When her fath- CT turned to come in she took his arm and pointed to the sky:
 'tOh look, Daddy, the beautiful twi- light! Is it not exquisite!' Then im- pulsively she put her hand to her lips and threw a kiss to it-over the square by way of the 1i1acs- Her voice was music as she said softly, but clearly enough to be heard in the garden: ..-.-.-
 Good night; Good night beloved! Good night! Good nighty'
 And Athlyne peering through the bushes heard the words with a beat ing of his heart which made his tenn ples throb. His only wish at the mo- ment was that it might have been that the words had been addressed to him.
 CTo be Continued.)