io6 "TRESPASSERS" 



Society, that mother of humbug, winks at her 

 minion's mutiny, knowing that he will not have gone 

 far ere his liberty become a burden to him, and he 

 hasten to join himself to others similarly minded to 

 make of many vanities a semblance of substantial 

 fellowship. For man, who at first banded with his 

 fellows for fear of other men, has in the end come to 

 fear himself. To be alone is to cease to be ; unless, 

 indeed, he catch at times too real a vision of himself 

 as in some magic mirror of solitude, with heaven 

 knows what strange shadows beside. 



But in winter the excursive, separatist impulse 

 yields to a sort of dull hibernating instinct. 

 Like birds that at this time pack and close in 

 to the farmsteads that form their feeding centres, 

 men mass and move in crowds, converging hither 

 for the " season," thither for some high ''function," 

 but whether here or there, always herding more 

 closely, crowding to the centre. 



Without stands Nature, if indeed there be any 

 "without" with her who was with them when they 

 were not and will take them when they are no more, 

 in the meanwhile dandling their social puppet on her 

 knee a rickety infant of doubtful sanity. Without 

 is that Nature on whose feet is no mire of cities, 

 and whose brow is untroubled by their breath of 

 smoke. For this is she who moves in spacious 

 ways; in her eyes is morning, the closing of her 

 eyelids is the coming-on of night. Strong mother of 

 the strong, she tries their thews and laughs at their 

 hurts ; she hides her secrets in dark places, lest they 

 should find them and grow slack ; but for the herdling 

 she is like needles in his joints. 



