From Pillar to Post 



never be told. Life is too short. Its opening 

 chapter deals with time so distant we cannot 

 conceive it, and not a day has since been lost. 

 Nature's diary is no petty note-book. Man fig- 

 ures no more largely in it than a rock or a tree. 



Again an autumn day to be remembered. 

 Some small words are to many a large thought 

 like the trigger to the gun; speak the one or 

 pull the other and great results follow. An 

 autumn day ! He must be stolid indeed who is 

 not moved by the mere mention of it. A day, 

 this, that comes all too seldom; a mellow day, 

 like to a perfected apple, as fair to the touch 

 as to the taste; and thus it happened, in my 

 walk, that I was stayed by the ruins of an old 

 spring-house. It is rare good luck to have an 

 autumnal and atavic day in one. This is what 

 remains of a spring-house my great-grand- 

 father built. Who lined the spring with peb- 

 bles, whether red man or white, I do not know, 

 but Indians knew these sparkling waters well. 

 The ashes of their camp-fires are not yet scat- 

 tered to the winds. Potsherds are still abun- 

 dant in the surrounding soil. But these people 

 have had their day and may joy go with them ; 



277 



