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 theirtrade. 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 
