old. Now she is a child with those chil 
dren, looking and acting like them. A moment later she 
will be a self-possessed young lady, with a quick, trained 
intellect that I can scarcely cope with. And yet in each 
and every character she seems so real and vital that even I, 
in  of myself, feel compelled to admit her truth. Her 
life is like a glad, musical mountain stream, while I am a 
stagnant pool that she passes and leaves behind. I  
if it is possible for one life to be awakened and quickened 
by another. I  if her vital force would be strong 
enough to drag another on who had almost lost the power 
to follow. It is said that young fresh blood can be infused 
directly into the veins of the old and feeble. Can the same 
be true of moral forces, and a glad  and interest in life 
be breathed into the jaded, cloyed, wordnetdesire-cursed  of 



INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS 115 

one who  existence with dull eye, sluggish pulse, 
and  of lead ? It seems to me that if any one could 
have such power it would be that girl there with her in 
tense vitality and subtle connection with nature, which, as 
she says, is ever young and vigorous. And yet I propose 
to reveal her to herself