There was the sound of abundance of life in the woods behind him, and around the boles of the scattered trees in front of him the graceful little stoats were playing. At his feet were scattered all the wild flowers of the meadow. Where the earth was brown under the trees, myriads of fairy bells were hanging in clusters, and in the meadow the yellow buttercups shone like spangles upon a garment of green velvet. He was not close enough to the brink of the cliffs to be able to see the purple and blue and pink of the flowers scattered among the coarse herbage of the rocks. But the bank of gorse that flowed like a yellow river through the meadow could not be ignored. In the sunlight it was a glory to see. The sky was faintly grey, but the sea was of the brightest azure--the pure translucent blue of the sapphire, and it was alive with the light that seemed to burn subtly within the heart of a great jewel. But in the utter distance it became grey until it mingled imperceptibly with the sky. The poet-preacher saw everything that there was to be seen, and his faith was upheld as it ever was, by the gracious companionship of nature, and he cried now: “Oh, that a man could speak to men in the language of the Summer!” Why could not all eyes of men look forth over that sea to where the heaven bowed down and mingled with it? Why could not men learn what was meant by this symbol of the mystic marriage of heaven and earth? Why should they continue to refuse the love which was offered them from above? Everything that he saw was a symbol to him of the love of which he was the herald--the love which is followed by a peace that passeth all understanding. He was conscious of this peace leaning over him with outstretched wings, and he felt that the answer to his prayer had come. He would make no further attempt to solve the difficulties which had perplexed him. The voice that breathed the message that soothed him was the same that Elijah heard, and it said: “Rest in the Lord, and He shall direct thy ways.” He remained there for another hour, and then rose and made his way slowly toward the village. The meadow track led to a broad gap in the hedge of gorse, and just as he had passed through, he was aware of the quick pattering of a galloping horse on the short grass behind him, and before he had time to turn, the horseman had put his mount to the hedge, making a clear jump of it. “What, ho!” cried the man, apparently recognising Wesley before the horse's feet had reached the ground. “What, ho!” and he pulled the animal to its haunches. Wesley saw that he was Parson Rodney, the good-humoured Rector who had spoken to him when he had been on the road with Nelly six weeks before.