Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences

Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences

Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences

Life for Life's Sake: A Book of Reminiscences

Excerpt

"IT'S long past your bedtime. See! The mist is rising," she said, holding me up to the window. There was a blood-red streak on the horizon, and the wheat stooks were dark in the twilight. I didn't know what mist was, and hopefully expected the piled wheat sheaves would levitate, perhaps fly up into the sky and disappear.

"There, you see?" she said. "Now off to bed we go."

But my voice filled the air with wails of protest. The ruthless logic of children and savages was outraged. The mist (i.e., the piled wheat) was not rising; therefore it was not late; therefore I should be allowed to stay up longer. But how to put that into words, how even to formulate it as anything approaching an idea, I didn't know. All that was manifest and indisputable was the evil nature of my nursemaid. So early do we discover with astonishment and indignation that our view of the universe differs from that of others. So early those who disagree with us are the wicked.

There was a strange narrow little room, with windows at each end and a high green seat along each side. The order of the incomprehensible but all-knowing ones wag to sit still, when plainly the sensible thing was to profit by the high seat, and slide off and climb back as often as possible. Presently . . .

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