All manner of tremendous things were happening
at a frightful pace--while this unnoticed wood just stood and grew,
watching the sun and stars and listening to the brushing winds. Its
unadvertised foliage concealed a busy universe of multitudinous,
secret life.
How still the trees were--far more imposing than in a storm! Still,
quiet things are much more impressive than things that draw attention
to themselves by making a noise. They are more articulate. The
strength of all these trees emerged in their silence. Their steadiness
might easily wear one down.
And now, into its quiet presence, a man and a boy from that
distressful outer world had entered. They moved with effort and
difficulty into its untrodden depths. Uninvited and unasked, they
sought its hidden and invisible centre, the mysterious heart of it
which the younger of the adventurers could only describe by saying
that "It isn't there, because when you get there, you disappear!" Two
ways of expressing the same thing, of course! Moreover, entering
involved getting out again. Escape and Rescue--the Wood always in
opposition--took possession of the man's slow mind.
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