light Every moment the values changed. The poignant distant note of the hermit-thrush thrilled through the air. . . . The glorious colors deepened. To the west the sky above the horizon was palest green with long-drawn clouds lying between golden strips of apparent sea; above, the clouds melted into turquoise and then by mysterious gradations into salmon and into flamingo pink and deep rose and flame color. Overhead all was soft purplish tones. And well the watcher knew that such color, such piercing beauty must have had tempest preceding them.
The Wise Old Giant spoke softly to his listener.
"So the storm passes. Suppose trouble and disaster and crushing disappointment and shattering disillusion sweep over your soul. Suppose they even strip you bare as my riven sides were stripped bare by fire and flood long years ago. What matter? It all passes. You can only lose what was not truly yours. New beauty, new hopes, new
