The Rambles of an Idler 



lowed to the letter. I remember finding, half 

 a century ago, a great cluster of butterflies on 

 a little bush, and I stayed and played with them 

 until it began to grow dark. The errand was 

 quite forgotten, and of course there was a grand 

 commotion at home, but what of it? I was only 

 learning to walk. I remember, later, walking 

 farther and farther into a dense swamp until 

 the sun was near to setting and then finding 

 myself out of it, but in strange fields. I had 

 wandered wherever interest pointed and had no 

 thought of fatigue or fear, and was fresher 

 when found than were those who were search- 

 ing for me. Such methods of learning to walk 

 may be open to objections, but no others are as 

 effective. If eyes and ears do not play their 

 part, the little the legs do goes for nothing. 



Walking calls also for the exercise of mem- 

 ory. The earlier walk recalled will throw light 

 on the later one. The inexplicable of yester- 

 day, seen under disadvantage, is plain to-day 

 when the conditions are more favorable. The 

 unfamiliar chirp that we heard may be a more 

 elaborate song the day following and what was 

 then a vexing mystery is now a pleasing fact. 



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