Kilmeny of the Orchard 
     
    
   
   
    
     in the composition class that morning, and 
     
     John Reid, a sober, matter-of—fact little 
     
     urchin, with not the slightest embryonic 
     
     development of a sense of humour, had, 
     
     acting upon the whispered suggestion of 
     
     a roguish desk—mate, elected to write upon 
     
     “ Courting.” His opening sentence made 
     
     Eric’s face twitch mutinously whenever 
     
     he recalled it during the day. “ Courting 
     
     is a very pleasant thing which a great 
     
     many people go too far with.” 
     
    

    
     The distant hills and wooded uplands 
     
     were tremulous and aerial in delicate 
     
     spring-time gauzes of pearl and purple. 
     
     The young, green—leafed maples crowded 
     
     thickly to the very edge of the road on 
     
     either side, but beyond them were emer- 
     
     ald fields basking in sunshine, over which 
     
     cloud shadows rolled, broadened, and van- 
     
     ished. Far below the fields a calm ocean 
     
     slept bluely, and sighed in its sleep, with 
     
     the murmur that rings for ever in the ear 
     
     of those whose good fortune it is to have 
     
     been born within the sound of it. 
     
    
   
   
    
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