Had I known any thing of Pythagoras then, almost I could have believed in the transmigration of souls, or that my spirit had passed into some different body, so utterly strange and new I felt at Silver Islet. Here father had rented a little house that stood apart from the rest, upon the very highest point. The whole settlement was grouped within the least possible compass, and considerable of the island, small as it was, still remained in its original condition. There were no trees immediately about our house, but to the right, and running thinly all the way down on the other side to the water, a few straggling pines clung, with their rope-like roots, to the rocks. It was no trouble to me to keep house for only one. I got the breakfast and supper, and every morning put up a dinner for father, which he took with him to the mine. So all day I was left wholly to myself. As I said, so strange and new I felt it seemed to me for a while as if I had lost my own identity. Here, for the first time in my life, there lay before my eyes a vast expanse of glittering waves—the mighty mystery of far-reaching waters! Rolling, moving, changing, remaining for endless ages, attracting, terrifying—only the mightier mystery of eternity can fathom the hidden secret of this unceasing problem. A hush fell upon my fluttering spirits, a hush of profound awe before this symbol, this vision of the unknown infinite. At last the cry of my soul for food was silenced, the dreadful hunger of my heart, that through all my life I could not allay, was pacified. At dawn I saw the timid light creep up along the east and wait and brighten, until it set an emblazoned standard in the sky, and below, far out, covered with the pomp of the rising sun, the distant billows clashed their blood-red shields. At noon, I saw the mid-day radiance, falling through the air in torrents of splendor, float far and near, changing into gorgeous mosaics upon the sea. At night I saw the long line of mighty cliffs upon the silent Canadian shore reach out their giant shadow through the dusk of evening that, slowly, softly, gathered into a twilight sweeter than the luminous haze of a dream. I had no one to care for me, no friend, no lover, but I needed none now. I was happy, happy as in a new and glorious world. I forgot the dreadful prairie, dry and parched—the vast, staring, level of land that for so many years had oppressed me by its terrible, never ending monotony. I even forgot the thousand times I had longed and longed to see a great city, to live among its busy throng.