The labor world. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1896-current, 1902-08-02

mn slmsl u "a GhlntaolSer
b sdl 3 Eis HUI ~, pla & s.esnsed I'd
him great museum OF loneliness. He
felt cut of from e. ltss no longer sig,
nincant,, it,, edges a1irssd blurred ST
the disconcerting strangeness in his
brain, and as yet no other lie had taken
it's PLACE: He vas flaattnk petween two
worlds---and al the time dosgedlyi eat
ing eggs and cream. and, trying at night
to keep those wheels inside his skull
from 'clacking round in that purpose
les way they-had Of late.
But on the morning when the sun was
dispensing clouds too airy to throw a
shadow, he climbed the hill behind the
barn and came out In the upland past
ure. Immediately, for some reason, or
because the moment was, ripe, his
shackles fell from him and his eyes
were opened. There was, indeed, no
reason for. any happening save that the
moment had struck, and so he at once
perceived. The air lay warm upon him,
and the smell of the earth was in his
nostrils. He followed the slope into the
pine woods and stood there, his face
near to: a moving bough. Something
Weakened within him. He could have
told what the scent recalled, and yet,
since there was no one by to demand
g. foolish interchange of comparison, he
need say nothing: His soul and he knew
that same Whit of balm bore him back
to a pineshaded bank in the pasture
at home. where violets came, in the
spring. So, grasping with both hands
the globe Of remembrance, he was the
child again, the man comprehending
the child. -.
He went on through the pasture and
drew its intimacies into: his being.
There was no need of; going into the
great villa woods, far from men, for
that life Of nature which compliments
the soul. This, also, was primal nature,
though in little All the joys and .trag-
edies of tiny wild life were at once
apparent to him. He thought with love
and gentleness Of the nests that were
bu'' ling. Some of them would be wash
ed away or wantonly destroyed; but
it did not matter. Each little feathered
thing threw Its whole life and labor
into an uncomprehended, scheme, and
was glad to do it.. He looked: at the
pine trees, and wondered which one Of
them would be cut down or scanned
with lightning; for his own hurt made
him kin to loss. But it did not matter.
The stricken thing would: be received
into the common bosom, and lie there
to enreach the rest. Other springs
would be as fair, and yet more poignant
for such tragedies; and the: tragedies
themselves were not forgotten. Every
thing was recorded in: the .voiceless
chronicles of the air.
While, he was uplifted by the sanity
and wholesomeness OF the place, he was
at the same time reconciled to his own
manned state. He was entranced be
the sequence of things; he was caught
in their rhythm. It became impossible
to believe that any work, of, creation
should be other than very good. Colors,
like an exhalation, rose to his eyes and
blessed them. There was last years
mullin, yellow and brown in a velvet
harmony. There was the somber pines
less a hue than shadow. Birches
f1ickered: in: liquid green: His heart
sang within him, and presently he be-
gan to. smile, for he saw, a: caterpillar
crawling aWay%to some sunkuoWn GOAL
and it. seemed excellent5f ooling tor that
bristlinsn cylinder. to he making such
ado inagettin9 nowhere q Fs5tT n ~ S*st:&5
The fardels of his, former: life fell
from the man like Christian's pack,
Unregarding friendship; love unkind,
what were they, after all; to the soul?
It was impossible any more to clir1ch
and cling, even for his dearest wish.
All wishes became: an racQuiescence.
He waited q light good-by to passions
that a. week ago had haHenged heaven
to dare dispute their own continuance.
They were not less poignant, but life
had suddenly become greater than any
expression of life. He had fallen into
that frame OF mind which counseis,
not an onslaught upon the heights, but
grave, long pauses before normal do
ings This was the first day. The second
brought new balm and told him how
to put it to his wounds and heal them.
May flooded in on him, sea Of green,
and on that his shallop hoated merrily.
Yet not to former ports. nor within
sound of the singing of old breakers.