VI. All Sorts and Conditions of Men... and women

           ASeptemberdayonPrinceEdwardIslandhills;acrispwindblowingupoverthesanddunesfromthesea;alongredroad,windingthroughfieldsandwoods,nowloopingitselfaboutacornerofthicksetspruces,nowthreadingaplantationofyoungmapleswithgreatfeatherysheetsoffernsbeneaththem,nowdippingdownintoahollowwhereabrookflashedoutofthewoodsandintothemagain,nowbaskinginopensunshinebetweenribbonsofgolden-rodandsmoke-blueasters;airathrillwiththepipingsofmyriadsofcrickets,thosegladlittlepensionersofthesummerhills;aplumpbrownponyamblingalongtheroad;twogirlsbehindhim,fulltothelipswiththesimple,pricelessjoyofyouthandlife.

           “Oh,thisisadayleftoverfromEden,isn’tit,Diana?”...andAnnesighedforsheerhappiness.“Theairhasmagicinit.Lookatthepurpleinthecupoftheharvestvalley,Diana.Andoh,dosmellthedyingfir!It’scomingupfromthatlittlesunnyhollowwhereMr.EbenWrighthasbeencuttingfencepoles.Blissisitonsuchadaytobealive;buttosmelldyingfirisveryheaven.That’stwothirdsWordsworthandonethirdAnneShirley.Itdoesn’tseempossiblethatthereshouldbedyingfirinheaven,doesit?Andyetitdoesn’tseemtomethatheavenwouldbequiteperfectifyoucouldn’tgetawhiffofdeadfirasyouwentthroughitswoods.Perhapswe’llhavetheodortherewithoutthedeath.Yes,Ithinkthatwillbetheway.Thatdeliciousaromamustbethesoulsofthefirs...andofcourseitwillbejustsoulsinheaven.