16 AN IDLER ON MISSIONARY RIDGE. 



the farther side of the Ridge, however, I by 

 and by discovered a spot more permanently 

 attractive, a little valley in the hillside. 

 Here was a spring, and from it, nearly dry 

 as it was, there still oozed a slender rill, 

 which trickled halfway down the slope 

 before losing itself in the sand, and here 

 and there dribbled into a basin commodious 

 enough for a small bird's bath. Several 

 times I idled away an hour or two in this 

 retreat, under the shadow of red maples, 

 sweet-gums, sycamores, and tupelos, making 

 an occasional sortie into the sun as an ad- 

 venturous mood came over me or a distant 

 bird-call proved an irresistible attraction. 



They were pleasant hours, but I recall 

 them with a sense of waste and discomfort. 

 In familiar surroundings, such waitings 

 upon Nature's mood are profitable, whole- 

 some for body and soul ; but in vacation 

 time, and away from home, with new paths 

 beckoning a man this way and that, and a 

 new bird, for aught he can tell, singing be- 

 yond the next hill, at such a time, I think, 

 sitting still becomes a burden, and the cheer- 

 ful practice of "a wise passiveness " a virtue 

 beyond the comfortable reach of ordinary 



