Impressions 



will seem to be an earth-born voice ; even the big 

 bullfrog will not be recognized. Every t^oice 

 of the night will center about the cobweb — ^no, 

 the ghost. 



That calm, common sense which is our pride, 

 the judgment we boast of when we encounter 

 difficulties, the logic which we learned at school, 

 all that goes to the making of a man, vanishes 

 into thin air, is scattered by the whispered 

 breath of fear, when cobwebs wave in the moon- 

 light. It is strange that we are seldom satis- 

 fied with the simple fact and are so prone to 

 invest the actual with fanciful conditions, 

 "Nothing if not marvelous" is a popular 

 motto. It is all very true that a straight line is 

 the shortest distance between two points, but 

 because this is true the straight line is not in 

 favor. It reduces life to too simple an equa- 

 tion. We must be forever travelling around 

 Eobin Hood's barn to be satisfied. No one 

 thinks of walking straight through it, even if 

 the doors are wide open. Spiders may spin 

 their silk; that is nothing. Moisture may con- 

 dense to dewdrops ; that is less. The moon may 

 shine as it never shone before; who cares? 



35 



