the small change out of life; indeed, life would come
abruptly to a close were not folks at hand to grease its
wheels with food and drinks and such like, but I am
not sure that the receivers of the small coin do not
forego the big drafts, which, coming at long intervals,
repay for the intervening blanks. Some prefer a perpetual
trickle of pleasant liquid. I like my thirst
appeased in occasional big draughts from foaming
tankards, otherwise life loses its relief and becomes an
unpleasantly colourless monotone.
CHAPTER XVII
There are mirrors of crystal shining,
Whenever the cloud-wrack breaks,
And grass-clad banks are tiering
A wreath of the fairy lakes,
Lakes th a t are links in an endless chain,
For the water is out in the swamp again.
S G f P ill Ogilvie.
This is the sort of thing th a t readily begets a personal feeling against
nature. —Stevenson.
To escape damp I climb to greater elevations—Meet storms and
stones M lte tum to the shelter of trees and sing the praises
of botany.
T hen followed a wearisome succession of d ay s sp e n t in
w a n d e rin g fo rth , receiving th e c o n te n ts of th e celestial
ta n k s , a n d r e tu rn in g to a ttem p t d ry in g in a so ak in g
t e n t w ith n o more a d e q u a te flooring th a n a boggy soil
a n d a m u d d y sc rap of c a rp e t. T h e re a re m om en ts w h en
one w o u ld p re fe r to be th e lowest of th e sponges th a n
to r a n k h ig h ly in th e scale of life a n d have no m e an s
of rid d in g on e’s self of superfluous d amp. I suffered,
s tru c k o u t n ew lines of aches a n d p a in s, s a t sorrowfully
w a tc h in g th e slow submersion of th e m erg a s i t was
red u c ed to a q u a k in g morass, finally s e ttle d th a t, d e sp ite
showers a n d such m a lig n itie s of th e w e a th e r deities, I