Another such afternoon as the yesterday's had been! Warm, still, fragrant, hazy; more hazy than ever. The outlines of the distant hills were partially veiled; the colours on the middle distance glowing, mellow and soft, all the sun's glitter being shielded off. Slowly and enjoyingly the little company wandered along, leaving the lawns and pleasure ground of flowers behind them; through the cedars, past the spot where a day or two ago they had sat and read and eaten their chicken pie. Past that, and then up a winding steep mountain road that led up to the height of the point above. Just before the top was reached they turned off from the way towards the left, whence glimpses of the river had been coming to them, and after a few steps over stones and under the trees which covered all the higher ground, emerged from both upon a broad, smooth, top of a great outlying mass of granite rock which overhung the river. Not literally; a stone dropped from the edge would have rolled, not fallen, into the water; a stone thrown from the hand easily might have done the latter. The precipice was too sheer to let any but those sitting on the very edge of the rock look down its rugged, tree-bedecked side. However, Mr. Murray and Meredith at once placed themselves on that precise edge of the platform, while the girls and Fenton sat down in what they considered a safer position. A hundred feet below, just below, rolled the broad river; Mosswood's projecting point to the right still shutting off all view of the upper stream, while the jutting forth of Gee's point below on the other side equally cut off the southern reach of the river. The trees at hand, right and left, above and below, standing in autumn's gay colours; the hillsides and curves of the opposite shore showing the same hues more mild under the veil of haze and the distance. Not a leaf fluttered on its stem in the deep stillness; but far down below one could hear the soft lapping of the water as it flowed past the rocks. The stillness and the light filled up the measure of each other's beauty. For a while everybody was silent. There was a spell of nature, which even the young people did not care to break. Flora drew a long breath, at last, and then Maggie spoke. "Uncle Eden, we came here to talk." "Did we?" "I thought we did--to talk and to read." "Nature is doing some talking, and we are listening." "What does Nature say?" "Do you hear nothing?" Maggie thought she _did_, and yet she could not have told what. "It is not very plain, Uncle Eden," she remarked. "It becomes plainer and plainer the older you grow, Maggie,--that is, supposing you keep your ears open." "But I would like to know what your ears hear, Uncle Eden." "It will be more profitable to go into the subjects you wanted to discuss. What are they?"