The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-06-03
CHAPTER xxxvIII.

tensely alive. With the work done he
became conscious of a feeling of dis |
association from the surroundings in |
which he had so long been at home. Many |
words of the laxative German were run
ming in his mind from the night before. |
He was glad the business was off his /!
mind. He would now go the pleasant
journey, and think on the way.
His trunks were ready for the car;
and before he went down stairs his hand
bag was packed, and the preparations
for the start completed.
When, after his breakfast, he read the
telegram announcing that the car had
been delayed twenty-four hours in Chi
cago, he was bored by the thought that
he must pass another day in New York.
He was eager now to be off, and the
time would hang heavily
He tried to recall some forgotten de-
tail of the business that might serve
to occupy him. But the finishing had
been thorough.
He ran over in his mind the friends
with whom he could spend the time agree
ably. He could recall no one he cared
to see. He had no longer an interest in
the town or it's people.
He went aimlessly out on to Broadway
in. the full flood of a spring morning,
breathing the fresh air hungrily 1t
turned his thought to places out of the
CRIME and clamor of the city; to woods
and fields where he might rest and feel
aloof and sufficient unto himself.
He swung on to an open car bound
north, and watched without interest the
early quick moving workers thronging
south on the street, and crowding the
cars that passed him. At Fortysecond
street, he changed to a boulevard car
that took him to the Fort Lee Ferry at
49, q
Out on the shining blue river he ex
banded his lungs to the clean, sweet air.
Excursion boats, fiuttering gay streamers,
worked sturdily up the stream. Little
yachts, In, fresh Numbered suits of canvas,
darted across their bows or slanted in
| their wakes, looking like white butterflies.
The vivid blue of the sky was f1ecked
| with bits of broken fleece, scurrying like
| the yachts below. Across the river was a
| high towering bank of green inviting
| him over its summit to the languorous
| freshness beyond. s
| He walked off the boat on the farther
side and climbed series of steep wooden
stairways, past a tiny cataract that
foamed its way down to the river. When
he reached the top he walked thru a
stretch of woods and turned off to the
right down cool shaded road that
wound away to the north thru the
l
He was entranced at once by the roya
/ abandon Of spring, this wondrous time oil
secret beginnings made visible. The ole
earth was become as a young wife from
the arms of an ardent spouse. blushine
into new life and beauty for the very 10,
of love. He breathed the dewy freshness
and presently he whistled the "Sprins
Song" of Mendelssohn that bubbling
half-joyous, alf-plaintive little prayer ii
tmelody. =.
4 He was we'll into the spirit of the tim,
and place. His soul sang. The restet
muscles of his body and mind craved TIN
resistance of obstacles. He rejoiced H
: had been wise to leave the city for tn
fresh, unspoiled country-the city with al
its mean little fears. it's petty immortal
ties, and its very trif1ing concerns. H
did not analyse, more than to remember
: once, that the not reticent German woul
approve his mood. He had sought tn
soothing quiet with the unfailing instinc
of the wounded animal.
The mysterious green lifein the wood
at either side alfred him with it's furtiv
pulsing. But he kept to the road an
passed on. He was not yet far enoug
| from the town.
Some words from little song ran in hi
: mind as he walked:
The naked boughs into green leaves slipped,
. The longing buds into flowers tripped,
The little hills smiled as If they were glad,
The little rills ran as If they were mad.
There was green on the earth and blue in tt
g Il sky,
q The chrysalis changed to a butterfly.
q And our lovers, the honey-bees, all album,
). To hunt for our hearts began to come.
When he came to village with a
I electric car changing through it, he skirte
its borders, and struck off through
a woodland toward the river. Even the vi
: lage was too human, too modern, for h
> early-pagan mood.
In the woods he felt that curious thri
t of stealth. that impulse to cautious cor
8 cealment, which survives in man from tt
n remote days when enemies beset his fol
}. est ways. On a southern hillside he four
: a dog wood-tree with it's blossomed firm
r ament of white stars. In low, moist place
: the violets had sprung through IL
It thatch Of leaves and were singing the
5, purple beauties all unheard. Birds we
d nesting, and squirrels chartered and scolt
J ed.
e Under these more obvious signs al
g sounds ent the steady undertone of Ii
y in root and branch and unfurling leaf
d provoking, melting, making lawle
l. whomsoever it thrilled.
It He came out of the woods on to al
d other road that ran not far from the rive
v and set off again to the north along Il
j. beaten track.
n In an old fashioned garden in front of
Is small house a girl bent over a flower be
to working with a troweL
re He stopped and looked at her over t
Y, palings She was freshly prett
E with yellow hair blown about h
face under the pushed back sunbonn
Of blue. The look in her blue eyes w
the look of one who had heard echoe
who had awakened with the spring
new life and longings, mysterious al
&c unwelcome. but compelling.
80 She stood up when he spoke; her sIeev
:. turned prettily back upon her fair rou,
"a arms.
s. os '.Yes. the road turns to the left, |
s. ahead"
s She was blushing.
Of s.You are planting flower seeds??''
I'd Eyes, so many flowers were killed
in the cold last winter
ly 81 see; there must lot Of them ha
4 died here, but their souls didn't go fl
g. did they now"
1n She went to digging again in the bIa
ne moist earth. He fingered. The G
m worked on, and her blush deepened
rs felt a 1awless impulse to vault the palm
sh and carry her off for flower for ever
rt some wooded glade near by He dismiss
be it as impracticable. His intentions wol
re probably be misconstrued
he II hope your garden will thrive it
a pretty pattern to follow,
THANK you!'
L = w. u 4 : -