“But on His right they all look at Him—every eye. They must, lest they see the sorrow of their sisters; and His very brightness interposes a blinding screen of glory to hide the sadness and the awful chill that is outside and beyond. And looking on Him, their faces are lightened, and beam radiant. They have brought their little lamps to Him, burning. Oh! how tiny the flames look, and how brown is their light against His glory, for they are all shone down and dazzled out before Him, like earthly lights before the sun—candles fading blear-eyed before the noon. One of the figures, eager, with the smallest lamp of them all, has pressed by all the rest, and caught the Bridegroom’s hand, that she who was last might be first; whilst another, in the very background, is content to bear aloft her largest lamp, with three wicks bravely burning, calmly confident and trustful; for they who are first shall be last. One, half-averted, nurses and tends the flame of her lamp still—it has had but a little oil in it, and that scarce eked out till now. Close to the Bridegroom, an angel holds out a child’s hand, with a little feeble light, so that even if it does not last on, it shall only go out in His very presence. But the little one is safe, for of such is His kingdom, and in heaven her Angel has always beheld the Father’s face. These are all in the sunshine of His favour, and glow with the light that streams from Him. Yet the angel at the porch still says even to these, ‘Vigila!’—‘Watch ye!’ and still pours oil into the fading lamp at the gate.”
Barley, Holmsley, and Sway are within easy reach of Lyndhurst, even to the pedestrian lady.
Queen’s Bower Wood—
“Beautiful, beautiful Queen of the Forest,
How art thou hidden so wondrously deep!”
—Is one of the most charming of forest woods, its handsome aged oak picturesquely overhanging the clear and bubbling stream, so soon to mix its waters with the all-absorbing sea. The stream here, as in so many other parts of the Forest, is covered in summer time with white water-lilies.
We visited Lymington in the Wanderer, and although the rain poured down in torrents all day, from under the broad canopy of the coupé we viewed the scenery safely and were delighted therewith.
Of course the Wanderer visited Minstead and Stony Cross.
What a magnificent view is to be got of the Forest from the breezy furze-clad common near the inn at Bramble Hill!
Hurricane Bob led the way with a rush down the grassy slope to Rufus’s Stone, and Inie and myself came scampering on after, all three of us as full of life as mavises in May time.