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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 1"

I used to feel just like that."
"It is the same kind of thing I feel," I said--"as if life from the Spirit
of God were coming into my soul: I think of the wind that bloweth where it
listeth. Wind and spirit are the same word in the Greek; and the Latin word
_spirit_ comes even nearer to what we are saying, for it is the wind as
_breathed_. And now, Connie, I will tell you--and you will see how I am
growing able to talk to you like quite an old friend--what put me in such a
delight with Mr. Shepherd's letter and so exposed me to be teased by mamma
and you. As I read it, there rose up before me a vision of one sight of the
sea which I had when I was a young man, long before I saw your mamma. I had
gone out for a walk along some high downs. But I ought to tell you that I
had been working rather hard at Cambridge, and the life seemed to be all
gone out of me. Though my holidays had come, they did not feel quite like
holidays--not as holidays used to feel when I was a boy. Even when walking
along those downs with the scents of sixteen grasses or so in my brain,
like a melody with the odour of the earth for the accompaniment upon which
it floated, and with just enough of wind to stir them up and set them in
motion, I could not feel at all.


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