This declining sun, and the moon and stars that will soon follow in the pathway of its chariot, like a liveried cortege, shone upon that scene with all the light they will give this day and night.

The rain and dew, and all the genial ministries of the seasons, did their unaided best to make it lovely and beautiful.

The sweetest singing-birds of England came and tried to cheer its solitude with their happy voices.

The summer breezes came with their softest breath, whispering through brake, bush and brier the little speeches of Nature's life.

The summer bees came and filled all those heather-purpled acres with their industrial lays, and sang a merry song in the door of every wild-flower that gave them the petalled honey of its heart.