And I never see a traveller on the hill, especially if he be
afoot, without feeling that if I met him I should like him, and that
whatever he had to say I should like to hear.
* * * * *
At first I could not make out what the man was doing. Most of the
travellers I see from my field are like the people I commonly meet--so
intent upon their destination that they take no joy of the road they
travel. They do not even see me here in the fields; and if they did,
they would probably think me a slow and unprofitable person. I have
nothing that they can carry away and store up in barns, or reduce to
percentages, or calculate as profit and loss; they do not perceive what
a wonderful place this is; they do not know that here, too, we gather a
crop of contentment.
But apparently this man was the pattern of a loiterer. I saw him stop on
the knoll and look widely about him. Then he stooped down as though
searching for something, then moved slowly forward for a few steps. Just
at that point in the road lies a great smooth boulder which road-makers
long since dead had rolled out upon the wayside. Here to my
astonishment I saw him kneel upon the ground. He had something in one
hand with which he seemed intently occupied.
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