The Rambles of an Idler 



enters the creek; there are mole-crickets in the 

 damp earth and the woodchuck in his deep bur- 

 row; all these are fairly fixed as to comfort, 

 this warm weather, but all are liable to inter- 

 ruption, all require to exert themselves upon 

 occasion; but with the tree-toad, it is one long 

 day-dream, varied only with visions equally 

 long at night. A tree-toad is an instance of 

 embodied contemplation, of thought with a 

 body that merely serves to anchor it. 



Happily, no degree of enthusiasm as to Na- 

 ture stifles strictly human attributes. A walk 

 in midsummer to be complete should have a 

 happy ending. Its poetry should project itself 

 into the prose of home-coming ; but how best to 

 accomplish this is an open question. My choice 

 is to pass unobserved into the cellar and eat a 

 fair-sized wedge of blackberry pie. It must 

 be done dexterously. No one must know of 

 what we are doing, and above all not one drop 

 of tell-tale juice must be in evidence. It is a 

 difficult feat. There are few experts but I hold 

 myself one of them, and yet it seldom happens 

 that a curious expression is not noticed on 

 others' faces as I re-appear. Life is less seri- 



106 



