Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1896-03-18
1 told him. and we went on nard at

came the noises Of the night-the chat
ter OF katydids and rustic of jarf1ies, tn
love song of tree crickets and toads, tn
deep reed notes Of frogs in their patche
of marsh, and through all mingled th'
heavy diapason of the surf, from across
the dunes, and the forest, and the blacl
waters of the lake, mellowed by it's pas
sage through the purple night. I am thu
most practical and unpoetical creature
in the world, as general thing, but tht
influence of it was too heavy for me.
started on to chat again about the boats
and about women and yachts and book
and the other interests Of the outel
world. but the things fell fiat, and pres
emily the talk died out of us altogether.
We lay there, hung in silence and sen
suously drinking in what the night gave
up. We must have spent hours without
throwing down word.
Then Atcheson spoke. "That is my
usual concert" he said. Zone gets te
like it.
did not answer at once. could not,
although his words came clearly enough
to my ears. A sort of mesmeric doze
pinned me down.
When managed to rouse, Ifelt angry
with myself for weakness and spoke
with sneer. "You must find it mighty
monotonous, I said.
"a mistake; an utter mistake. It is
full Of infinite variety; it never repeats
itself, and I know, because I have lis
tened to it now for three years, in calm,
in cyclone, in every kind of night which
God will give. It is his orchestra, but
until the taste has grown one does not
know this.
Another pause. Then, care you going
to write about this Walden pond of
yours?" asked.
IT am no Thoreau with pen. Be-
sides, I am selfish and if I could set this
down I would not. One man in ten
thousand might understand, some wild
fellow who had lived in the air with the
things that grow in the air away from
the pestilence of cities, and he would
never lift book, but the others would
either yawn or deride and I take it this
is no matter to be profaned. And yet
there is nothing new in it at all; only
the old things changed. have rambled
over the world and seen and tried most
pleasures; the sounds here give it all
back to me again, only hero it is ideal
ized."
The spell Of the place was closing
down again and pinning me. reused
myself with an effort and swore for re-
lief. "Atcheson, said, "I believe you
are either the devil or Gree with a
changed sex. Be merciful and speak no
more and let me sleep. If listen on, I
shall forget the place from whence I am
come and stay here and become as one
of the swine''
II am sorry" Atcheson said, "and
because do not want converts or COM
panions I will cay no more. Therefore
sleep you"
The miasma of the lotus was in my
veins and knew it and feared. I woke
sullen- and suspicious with the first lift
of day and got down to my boat. Atche-
son came after and cried pleasant auf
wiedersehen, and / answered with a
scowl and threw out the sculls. was
very angry with myself and still more
I had been in that kind of
before and knew what it was
afterward to wish that I had fallen.
Consequently I made up my mind to get
back to the yacht without halt and so
put in day Of savage toll, and because
the sun above burned like kettle Of
molten brass and the air baked, the ma
terial pains of the body gave me other
matters to think about. And when I
made out the sloop's riding light dane
ing on her forestry knew there was
another antidote close at hand. The man
with the sunburned legs was very car
nal and practical sort Of person.
He received me affably. He fed me
irst with sumptuousness, referred to the
decrease of his own affliction, and then |
;old me that we and the oysterman no |
onger had the bayou to ourselves.
"The Van Sciaks have come in with !
heir schooner" he said, "and they've |
! girl on board who says she knows you
"a Miss Wilcoxn."
"Ah," I said, 81 know her we'll |
nough. We used to see goodish deal !
# one another once.'
If you mean that you were spoons |
N the lady," said the man with the
unburned legs, II guess you'd better
orget that. Sho's engaged to Yankee
nan from Massachusetts now, person
With culture and dollars-heaps of dol
10000, 600 of 'em, SO be-
ieve. And being ammo etatis su@ 28,
he knows what is soft thing and is
ot likely to chuck it up. Take off those
ags and put on something respectable
nd we'll make the niger scull us
cross. She said I was to bring you
7hen you turned up"
"Not now. At present am going to
urn in to sleep. Probably shall die
q the course of the night. 1t will save
1e the trouble and pain of kicking my
slf if do.''
"Did you," said the man with the
lnburned legs, "in the course of your
anderings find a place where they sold
,rn whisky? Oh, you're snoring al
,ady, are you? Surely it's drunk you
re, my son, because otherwise you've
ome back very dotty. What rot to 60
nd live like hermit all by your lone
)me"
Miss Wilcoxn was a young woman
18th great notion Of having her own
ay. Had I known her less I should |
ave tried to avoid speaking OH mat
II which I preferred to keep silence
pom. Being acquainted, as we were, I
id not bring out any futile stubborn
oss.
She wanted to know what there was
be seen in the lagoons and lakes, and
told her, with one reservation, but
" tale did not quite hold water. and
le twigged that there was something
# out and demanded to hear what 1t
as, whereupon I shrugged my shoul-
srs helplessly and told her about Atch-
on, chapter, commas and verse,
erely lying in the solitary instance OF
personal name.
"You say that he is Christchurch
an p,' she deruanded when had I'm