THE STREETS OF THE MOUNTAINS 



run in and out of their appointed ways 

 with the greatest cheerfulness. They give 

 almost no tokens of distress, and even if 

 the winter tries them too much you are 

 not to pity them. You of the house habit 

 can hardly understand the sense of the 

 hills. No doubt the labor of being com- 

 fortable gives you an exaggerated opinion 

 of yourself, an exaggerated pain to be set 

 aside. Whether the wild things under- 

 stand it or not they adapt themselves to its 

 processes with the greater ease. The busi- 

 ness that goes on in the street of the moun- 

 tain is tremendous, world-formative. Here 

 go birds, squirrels, and red deer, children 

 crying small wares and playing in the 

 street, but they do not obstruct its affairs. 

 Summer is their holiday ; " Come now," 

 says the lord of the street, " I have need of 

 a great work and no more playing." 

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