They must get their excitement out of the newspapers, reading
of the hairbreadth escapes and moving accidents that befall people
in real life. What do these tame ducks really know of the adventure
of living? If the weather is bad, they are snugly housed. If it is
cold, there is a furnace in the cellar. If they are hungry, the
shops are near at hand. It is all as dull, flat, stale, and
unprofitable as adding up a column of figures. They might as well
be brought up in an incubator.
But when man abides in tents, after the manner of the early
patriarchs, the face of the world is renewed. The vagaries of the
clouds become significant. You watch the sky with a lover's look,
eager to know whether it will smile or frown. When you lie at night
upon your bed of boughs and hear the rain pattering on the canvas
close above your head, you wonder whether it is a long storm or only
a shower.
The rising wind shakes the tent-flaps. Are the pegs well driven
down and the cords firmly fastened? You fall asleep again and wake
later, to hear the rain drumming still more loudly on the tight
cloth, and the big breeze snoring through the forest, and the waves
plunging along the beach. A stormy day? Well, you must cut plenty
of wood and keep the camp-fire glowing, for it will be hard to start
it up again, if you let it get too low.
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