In passing this, one
morning, I was amazed to see a hammock swinging from the hooks I
had put in the two trees. This was a retreat which I had
supposed no one else would fancy or even think of! In the
hammock was a fan--a common Japanese fan. For fifteen minutes I
stood looking at that hammock, every nerve a-tingle. Then I
glanced around. The spot had been almost unfrequented since last
summer. Little bushes, weeds, and vines had sprung up here and
there between the two trees. There were dead twigs and limbs
lying about, and the short path to the main walk was much
overgrown.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to six. I had yet a
good hour for work, and with nothing but my pocket-knife and my
hands I began to clear away the space about that hammock. When I
left it, it looked as it used to look when it was my pleasure to
lie there and swing and read and reflect.
To approach this spot it was not necessary to go through my
grounds, for my bit of woods adjoined a considerable stretch of
forest-land, and in my morning walks from the mill I often used a
path through these woods. The next morning when I took this path
I was late because I had unfortunately overslept myself. When I
reached the hammock it wanted fifteen minutes to seven o'clock.
It was too late for me to do anything, but I was glad to be able
to stay there even for a few minutes, to breathe that air, to
stand on that ground, to touch that hammock. I did more than
that.
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