The Rambles of an Idler 



not. Accidents are too common to be explained 

 as accidents. It is more rational to conclude 

 that the world is so full of life that it perme- 

 ates every stick and stone and even every prod- 

 uct of man's handiwork. Outwardly dead as 

 the proverbial door-nail, but perversity re- 

 mains. It is surely not to be questioned that 

 never a tack escaped from its paper case or 

 proper place in the carpet but for very joy 

 stood on its head and fiendishly anticipated the 

 world's contact with its other end. 



Time would not suffice to write the history of 

 a world, the perversity of which is its sole omni- 

 present feature, but its victims find some relief 

 in occasional expostulation. It would be hard 

 indeed if there was not salve for every wound. 

 This is not so much an attempt at an essay as a 

 victim's cry, which he would have prove a warn- 

 ing, were it not that this is but a word in the 

 dictionary. Our own perversity enters a pro- 

 test here. No man holds he has need of knowl- 

 edge got so easily. 



A century ago, a slippery, slime-coated, ser- 

 pent-simulating snag, in Ctosswicks Creek held 

 my grandfather's boat for four long hours, 



188 



