The Rambles of an Idler 



respondent strings, this wandering voice plays 

 upon the heart and opens up the fullness of our 

 lives. The ecstatic minstrelsy of May thrilled 

 youth to the pitch of madness. It was a joy to 

 live in the heyday of the year 's energy, but not 

 less so now. Sadness finds no welcome. A 

 wandering voice replaces the singing bird, but 

 the change is not to be regretted. We can pic- 

 ture in the October landscape all the roses of 

 June and be blind, the while, to their investing 

 thorns. 



Life is to be measured by its results and not 

 by the energy expended. So with the year. The 

 hurried procession of sestival bloom; the trees 

 and shrubs and annual upstart weeds with end- 

 less intricate patterns of green leaves; the 

 grand chorus of the struggle for supremacy, if 

 not existence the bewildering tumult of the 

 year in its youthful days; of all this we can 

 think now, discussing each separate merit at 

 leisure, and live over again such moments as we 

 choose. It is the fitting employment of sucli an 

 afternoon as this; thought's harvest hour. 



The sudden appearance, momentary stay and 

 abrupt departure of single migrating birds is a 



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