Shippensburg University - Cumberland Yearbook (Shippensburg, PA)

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its dense foliage made a perpetual twilight. His limbs were wearied and he sat down on the edge of the pool to rest. Through the boulders the water bubbled and foamed. The rhytlnnical rise and fall in its song was very soothing to his troubled heart. The brook seemed to croon some lnlling, soothing' strain, just as when a child, his tender feelings wounded by some cruel blow, mother had gathered him to her breast and soothed and quieted his grief. Far off in tl1e forest at his right he heard the long drawn note of the cicada and across the patch of blue sky which the low- hanging boughs of the spruce and the spreading limbs of the alders on the opposite bank did not close up he saw, with outstretched, motionless wings. a buzzard soar. He sat and gazed. The green lichens on the rocks around him seemed to regard him with questioning stare, while the music of the brook seemed to repeat over and over again a cadence which sounded familiar to him. As he mused, the rise and fall of the rivulet seemed to be moulded into words by his own ever active imagination. just as when riding in a train as a child he had heard a series of words re- peated over and over again, their meaning dependent upon his mood. He heard the rivulet say, You've failed in your work ! you've failed in your work! Over and over the cadence repeated it. Over and over the words seemed to co111e to him. He shifted his position uneasily, but the words kept echoing in his ears, You've failed in your work ! You've failed in your work ! I know I have, he cried impatiently, but what can I do ? If you'1l watch, you'1l see ! The words came clearly to him. He started up and stared around him. The wind sighed gently through the spruce boughs. Out across the blue patch ot sky floated a white cloud. The stream murmured on but it gave no words to him. Down in the glassy water the trout hung motionless. The foam flakes still eddied around the pool. The azalia bushes, farther down, stood decked in their pink dresses. But no face looked out from their delicate flowers. With the thought, What a thing is imagination? he turned and traced his way along the stream. He walked for some time and grad- ually his feelings became more composed. The trouble smoothed out of his brow. He began to look around l1im with watchful eyes. What a dainty little flower! He stooped to examine it and as he did so he saw in the ground over which he had just stepped, a peculiar movement. He watched and up flew a little spurt of sand, then two black pincers ap- peared and after a little struggle tl1e entire ant-lion was visible. He sat down to see what the little fellow was going to do. The circular trap was in ruins: his chance of catching his prey, gone. The heavy step of this mountain ofa man had ruined his all. Nothing was left him save his io l

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ia!-' Tbeg Taught lvlim. Kill rt 7-Al xi!! V if lbw 4 MAN once wandered out far, far from the busy streets of gist lf' a city, away oil' into a valley. He was sad-so sad. I , f His heart was bitter toward his lot. He felt alone. Qgiltfv, i . Back in the scenes he had left the busy throng went on , buying and Selling, loving and hating. They felt his f -JRE absence no more than the falling snowflakes, on a dis- mal stormy night at sea, miss the companions that slip down into the black water. But the valley. The path he followed led down the moun- tain side into its somberest shades. The bushes and trees thickly fringed the path. The wind soughed through the pines and the sad cadence lent itself to his mood. As he walked along, the moss beneath his feet dead- ened his footfalls and nothing seemed able to break in upon his musings. He saw the life he had left, those dismal attempts, those heart-breaking failures. He reviewed in his mind the times he had failed, tl1e times he had with gritted teeth and tense muscles driven himself back to those un- successful tasks. And now, trial after trial had passed, and failure after failure. I won't go back to it, he thought, I'll make for myself an- other sphere of labor. He strode on through the dark recess of the forest, where the rhododendrons brushed his face with their harsh, shining leaves. He saw their bent and twisted stems and their snake-like roots. Up from the moss at his feet, rose a cluster of delicate Indian Pipes. He stooped and plucked one of the fairy flowers and stood regarding it. But alas ! soon the pretty flower blackened and with a sigh, he cast it from him and wandered on. It was typical, he thought of his blackened hopes, so bright at one time. Soon there fell on his ear the sound of running water and as he advanced the weird murmur increased in volume. He stopped on the bank and gazed on the swift-flowing stream. It was a small moun- tain rivulet: its clear, limpid waters did not conceal the pebbles and leaves that strewed its bed, and the small fishes seemed suspended inbsome glassy medium. Here the little stream made its foaming way between a number of boulders and just below was a deep pool. Above the stream the boughs of the trees interlaced and at the pool a huge hemlock, with s 9

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strength and his instinct and, true to tl1e latter, he at once set about a new hole. It was a slow task. His pincers were a useless encumbrance but with quick, decisive blows from his feet he dug up and pushed aside the sand. Soon he had made it the size of an acorn bowl and slipping down into it he began to conceal himself at the bottom. He had scarcely covered half his body when down toppled the bank in ruins, covering him under the debris, and destroying the result of all his former patient toil. But he set to work again and this time was more successful and after a time nothing was seen save the circular hole and the black pincers protruding from the bottom. The trap was set. Soon an unwary ant, traveling along, approached too near this innocent-looking depression and slipped over the edge. Quick as thought, spurt after spurt of sand came upon the intended victim, coming down around him in showers. Bewildered, he turned around and began to struggle toward the top again. It was hard work. The sand falling on him was heavy, half stunning him with its force. But after quite a struggle he escaped. But alas for the trap of the ant-lion! Half filled with sand, the edge no longer circular, it stood again-ruined. The poor ant-lion extricated himself from the wreck of his once so beautiful and so symmetrical dwelling and seemed to gaze at it for awhile helplessly. But not for long. With undiminished energy he again set to work and soon again the trap might be seen, an inverted cone of perfect form. Our watcher helped him this time, for catching the next ant that came strag- gling his way, he drove him to the edge of the trap and watched as volley after volley of sand was hurled upon him. This time the patient worker was rewarded. Our watcher arose and walked away. He' thought of the patient little toiler, of his disappointing failures and then reflected that, unlike a man to him there came no consciousness of duty done. no sooth- ing influence of sympathizing friends, but all was instinct. , He strode along still musing. The stream began to quicken its pace, to dash along like a frightened deer. Its murmur and babble gradually changed intoa roar and soon deep-toned and full, it fell upon his ear. He gazed about. He was nearing a gorge down which the stream plunged by a series of falls and rapids, to recontinue its babbling course some dis- tance below. He stood at the summit of the fall and looked down into the gorge. Away down, a mile or more it widened out into another val- ley running directly across the course of the stream. Across the large valley he could see the wheatfields shining bright and yellow in the sun- light. The mountains which closed in the larger valley seemed blue and far away. The gorge was very rough and rugged. Stnnted pines and , ...U F