The morning call., 1893-11-12

the inevitable results OF civilization NJ
matter what trackless waste man rOa ms
upon he Is sure sooner or later 10 NEE
with a barbed-wire fence stretched mos
unnecessarily between him and where he
wants TO be. There are ways, however. OF
surrounding, or rather of crawlinZ under
this difficulty. Once on the other side OF
the fence it is delightful to press under
foot the soft brown masses of dead leaves
which have fallen from the trees all about
the spot. 1t is very quiet here. When
the rustling of the leaves as one walks has
ceased the place seems to be shut In from
outside sounds. Some one far away IS
whistlng; occasions ally there are sounds
OF passing voices, but here, iDclosed by
trees and the banks of Strawberry, one
hears only the chirp of the little bird who
sits and f1uters his feathers after his ba tn
or the soft sudden whir of his wings as he
fits about. while the brook sings softly
under it's breath among the stones.
1t is tantaltzing to listen to the brook
singing. 1t seems to be telling over and
over again some pleasant secret, for now
and then it laughs as it falls from one rock
to another. The bubbles in every poo
twinkle mirthfully until they have almost
told what pleases them. Then, at the
critical moment when they are about tC
speak, they give final sparkle and vanish
noiselessly. This happens again and
again. The brook comes gayly around a
corner, laughs and chatters down to ones
very feet, then suddenly changes to a
sedate and unsmilng bit of water and
whisks ous of sight around another corner.
In its quiet moods the stream mirrors
everything about 1t with commendable
faithfulness. One sees in its shallow pools
the branches OF the trees meet and grasp
each other by the hand, while through the
lacework of their leaves bits of gray sky
In Iv fr1v f1tk 4, u 10 !,
Well done, little pool! The branches CLASP
hands overhead and the gray sky peers
down just as your clear mirror has re-
fiected it. Here the trees and the brook
are all 10 shadow, but further away lone
stream of sunshine is filtered through the
leafy upper branches. making fantastic
splashes Of light ard shade on the ground
beneath. Even this light grows, fainter
ana further away as one looks at it. In
the growing shadow the bird has dried his
feathers and has flown chipping to his nest
The pretty nook is growing cold and dang
and IL is relief to come out in the sun.
light and tramp remorselessly over patch
OF tender green grass up to the dusty roa[
above.
A cool breeze begins to blow as thu
sun slowly sinks toward his setting
The hills in front are brown an(
bare, but still warm with the rec
glow of the west. while a thin. sof
mist falls gently down their sides, catching
every ray of light and throwing it bacl
glorified. Along level road, then dowI
into hollow, over one of these two o.
three feet deep spanned only by a three
inch plank. now a hill and another holIo W
fence to scramble under, sudden turn
and the setting sun looks in the face of tn,
hurryiDg wanderer. and then drops hastily
into the Golden Gate. The bay sire 'che
out, level golden plain, to the horizon
there long lines of cloud and jagged edges
of the oncoming fog are gorgeous 10 theil
painting of fame color and purple ant
gold; then softly beautiful in pink an(
palest blue and green; then all the color
fade. and the gray mist reaches ont Ion!
arms over the islands and the bay, anC
grasDs the shore with clammy fingers
Specks of light suddenly appear far ahead
as the darkness grows the nearer window
shine out with cheerful invii alton. Will
Strawberry is left behind dark and silen
for the night.