Adventures in Friendship by David Grayson
page 3 of 131 (02%)
page 3 of 131 (02%)
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I felt as though life contained something that I was not permitted to
live. I recalled how my friend of the corn-planters had wished to give me the grip of the fellowship--only he could not. I was not entitled to it. I knew no grips or passes. I wore no uniform. "It is a complicated matter, this fellowship," I said to myself. So I jogged along feeling rather blue, marveling that those things which often seem so simple should be in reality so difficult. But on such an afternoon as this no man could possibly remain long depressed. The moment I passed the straggling outskirts of the town and came to the open road, the light and glow of the countryside came in upon me with a newness and sweetness impossible to describe. Looking out across the wide fields I could see the vivid green of the young wheat upon the brown soil; in a distant high pasture the cows had been turned out to the freshening grass; a late pool glistened in the afternoon sunshine. And the crows were calling, and the robins had begun to come: and oh, the moist, cool freshness of the air! In the highest heaven (never so high as at this time of the year) floated a few gauzy clouds: the whole world was busy with spring! I straightened up in my buggy and drew in a good breath. The mare, half startled, pricked up her ears and began to trot. She, too, felt the spring. "Here," I said aloud, "is where I belong. I am native to this place; of all these things I am a part." But presently--how one's mind courses back, like some keen-scented |
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