The Rambles of an Idler 



us leave so muoh as an arrow-point behind? I 

 have nothing about me as imperishable as these 

 dexterously chipped stones. What a joy it 

 would be to put on record an imperishable 

 thought ! 



As I stoop to pick from the newly ploughed 

 soil another arrowpoint, fancy gains the mas- 

 tery and the field disappears. The forest is re- 

 stored; deer lurk in its shadows and the hun- 

 ter's moccasined feet silently press the dead 

 leaves where I would have noisily trod. Now, if 

 I chance upon a mouse or see a squirrel on yon- 

 der fence, I am fortunate. The thoughts that 

 such a change has wrought, are vexing. A 

 cloud appears in the blue sky. 



We are too apt to be discontented and grow 

 morose even, if we dwell too much upon the ir- 

 revocable past. Had it been the climax of the 

 world's purpose, it would have remained so. 

 Evolution stopped with the appearance of man, 

 but the Indian is only a phase of human pro- 

 gress. The aim of the universe is towards still 

 better things and we are better employed with 

 the present than forever brooding over the past. 

 Some people speak of the "good" old times as 

 if the present were irretrievably bad. Well 



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