A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



looked for the spring water. &quot; You haven t got 

 so much sand at this hour of the day, have you ? &quot; 

 I don t think I answered myself. If I did I made 

 no record of it, but I did try to explain to Griselle 

 why I couldn t eat her broiled chicken and fresh 

 eggs at that time in the morning. And she said, 

 Oh, I d come to it after I got rested. 



&quot; Rested ? Do I look tired ? &quot; 



&quot; I guess you re tired on the wrong side,&quot; she 

 said. &quot; When you get tired on the right side, 

 you ll eat like a Cheshire shoat.&quot; 



This jarred a little, but it was prophecy. About 

 half-past eleven I remarked to Charlie, &quot; My 

 kingdom for six small oysters on the half shell,&quot; 

 and he said, &quot; Let s go in and open the sardine- 

 box.&quot; 



And we did. 



It was not an easy job that I had taken upon 

 myself to reconstruct my life. I don t think I real 

 ized the innate difficulties of it until I had burned 

 my bridges. It is all very well and quite natu 

 ral for us to talk about nature and obedience and 

 simple living if we are sportsmen, or naturalists, 

 or even poets. But if one is a stock-broker, who 

 has been communing with the money market for 

 eight years, it comes pretty tough at first. Noth 

 ing but the grim alternative of sudden death could 

 have made me so determined a bridge-burner. 

 But I must acknowledge that during the first 

 week of my voluntary exile in the far-away Hotch- 

 kiss woods I had to contemplate my eight-year- 

 old son and heir with deadly concentration of 



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