ON A PORCH 



past conditions under a milk diet. I understand 

 now that you cannot fasten yourself down to curds 

 and whey without waking up the Strephon who 

 has been biding his time in your bones, and find 

 ing yourself going about at times with an oaten 

 pipe that you do not know what to do with. 



The first month I called Griselle &quot; my young 

 lady &quot; with a fine sense of reserve. The second 

 month I called her &quot; Griselle &quot; with an easy sense 

 of compromise. The third month I occasionally 

 addressed her as &quot; my dear &quot; with guarded pater 

 nal composure, and as nobody started at it, I 

 adopted that phrase. By the time I had recov 

 ered my appetite so that I could eat a hunk of 

 bread with school-boy zest, and would not have 

 flinched if it had been spread with New Orleans 

 molasses, I began to discover traits of character 

 in Griselle, which was very much like my discov 

 ering that the sun rose and set, and the brook water 

 ran down hill, two facts that I had never before 

 observed with interest. The young woman did 

 not belong to my social domain, but whether those 

 traits were paradisaical or merely primitive, I did 

 not stop to inquire. The light that glimmered 

 was tenuous, but it came from a great distance like 

 starlight. It nourished dreams. 



Things had come to this pass when the Doctor 

 arrived at the cabin to join me in a week s savagery, 

 as he called it, and to come back to first principles. 

 No better man to give me lessons existed. He 

 showed me the masculine way of it ; how to throw 

 a fly ; how to eat tomatoes off the vines like apples, 



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