76 Idle Days in Patagonia* 



yet the thought did not seem a degrading one, nor 

 was I at all startled at this newly-discovered in- 

 difference, though up till then I had always been 

 profoundly interested in the moves on the great 

 political chessboard of the world. How had I spent 

 those fifty or sixty days, I asked myself, and from 

 what enchanted cup had I drunk the oblivious 

 draught which had wrought so great a change in 

 me ? The answer was that I had drunk from the 

 cup of nature, that my days had been spent with 

 peace. It then also seemed to me that the passion 

 for politics, the perpetual craving of the mind for 

 some new thing, is after all only a feverish artificial 

 feeling, a necessary accompaniment of the conditions 

 we live in, perhaps, but from which one rapidly 

 recovers when it can no longer be pandered to, just 

 as a toper, when removed from temptation, recovers 

 a healthy tone of body, and finds to his surprise 

 that he is able to exist without the aid of stimulants. 

 It is easy enough to relapse from this free and plea- 

 sant condition ; in the latter case the emancipated 

 man goes back to the bottle, in the former to the 

 perusal of leading articles and of the fiery utterances 

 of those who make politics their trade. That I have 

 never been guilty of backsliding I cannot boast ; 

 nevertheless the lesson nature taught me in that 

 lonely country was not wholly wasted, and while I 

 was in that condition of mind I found it very agree- 

 able. I was delighted to discover that the stimulus 

 derived from many daily telegrams and much dis- 

 cussion of remote probabilities were not necessary 



