296 EARLY REMINISCENCES of Italy to occupy the topmost peak of Soracte, those also of Spain to make their nests, as doves, in the rocky heights of Mont-serrat, and the Syrian stylites to perch themselves like storks on the summit of pillars ? The craving to reach above and beyond the petty, the temporal, the sordid, implanted in man, has had its consecration in the instances of Moses on Sinai, Elijah in the cave on Horeb, in the preparation of Jephthah's daughter among the mountains of Judaea for her death, in the example of Christ Himself, Who went up on a mountain to pray, and on another to be Transfigured. As I have intimated above, never have I seen such sunrises and sunsets as I did at Hurstpierpoint from the terrace. Many and many a time have I stood there and watched the glory of departing day—more often than I have the radiance of Dawn. I looked on these visions as a sort of deep-sea fishing. Beyond the streaks of cloud, some fringed with gold, others blood-stained, others lowering and purple, beyond even the remotest opalescent vapours just perceptible, but formless, there were depths of emerald sky, and beyond that was light unfathomable. I looked and wondered and learned a great deal. I knew well that the stooping sun was kindling the windows of New York, whether of the sky-scrapers I wot not, perhaps these had not then been erected. From that immeasurable abyss of light, yet of mystery, I drew thoughts of the infinity, of the perfection of God, of His love, of His promises, of His assurance of perpetual protection. At that very time the condition of Christ's Church in England was precarious, and the failing heart and relaxed courage needed cheering and bracing. I found it in the evening sky. The men like Slope in Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers were in the ascendant, riding picky-back on the shoulders of Prime Ministers, Chancellors and Archbishops, crowing as cocks, and with their shoes clasped to the breasts of their bearers. " It is well known," said Trollope, " that the family of the Slopes never starve ; they always fall on their feet like cats, and let them fall where they will, they live on the fat of the land." At that time the Slopes had been lodged by their bearers in episcopal thrones, in decanal and prebendal stalls, and in all the fattest rectories of the land. But I did not despair. God was above all, even above the Slopes. That is what the evening skies taught me.
