WOODLAND PATHS 



tecting scrub oaks, gone mad, too, dab 

 and flip at him till he gets fidgety with 

 thoughts of horned owls, and things rattle 

 down out of the sky as if he were being 

 pelted with buckshot. All these matters 

 get on his nerves after a little, and if he 

 sets his cotton-tail white flag at half mast 

 from fear and goes whooping through the 

 brush in a frenzy, there is small blame to 

 him. Even man, whose mental girth and 

 weight are supposed to be ballast sufficient 

 against all bufferings, going forth on such 

 a day needs the buttons of his composure 

 well sewed on or he will find it ripped from 

 him like the hare's form and sent skitter- 

 ing down the lea along with his hat, while 

 he himself bolts here and there fighting 

 phantoms and objurgating the unseen. 



Mad March winds are a good test of 

 stability of soul. He who can stand their 

 weltings with serenity, can watch his un- 

 44 



