Craftily I broach
the subject, watching their faces closely the while to detect first
signs of disapprobation, whereupon I empty long-stored vials of wrath
upon their heads. I wrangle for hours with whosoever does not say I
am right. I am become like Guy de Maupassant's old man who picked up
a piece of string. I am incessantly explaining, and nobody will
understand. I have become more brusque in my treatment of the
predatory city folk. No longer do I take delight in their
disburdenment, for it has become an onerous duty, a wearisome and
distasteful task. My friends look askance and murmur pityingly on
the side when we meet in the city. They rarely come to see me now.
They are afraid. I am an embittered and disappointed man, and all
the light seems to have gone out of my life and into my blazing
field. So one pays for things.
PIEDMONT, CALIFORNIA.
April 1902.
THE SHRINKAGE OF THE PLANET
What a tremendous affair it was, the world of Homer, with its
indeterminate boundaries, vast regions, and immeasurable distances.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152