Peripatetic Meditations 



What, now, of out-of-doors ? Is there nothing 

 but serenity under the bright blue sky? Let us 

 see. I hold no tree is so happy as that with 

 the stump of a dead branch projecting where 

 it is surest to be in the way. He who loves to 

 climb well knows how often it happens that de- 

 scending from a tree-top, we give an eager 

 jump at last, glad to reach the ground. We 

 leap into space and halt there. With what 

 solid satisfaction that stump, all innocence in 

 appearance, stops us in mid-air, and we dangle 

 until some important portion of an important 

 garment yields and we find ourselves sprawling 

 on the ground, released, it is true, but oh, so 

 ragged! 



It is not conducive to good humor, when ang- 

 ling and reasonable anticipation is at its height, 

 to be teased by hope-inspiring nibbles, and then 

 apparently rewarded by a vigorous tug at the 

 line, to haul in exultantly, hand over hand, and 

 as the fish appears, a splendid catch to have 

 the line break. How very suddenly the green 

 world turns blue. 



Whether cotton, hemp or silk, that line was 

 once alive ; product of plant or worm, it matters 



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