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Grayson, David, 1870-1946

"The Friendly Road: New Adventures in Contentment"

At that I began to suspect that in coming out of the
forest I had somehow got into another and somewhat similar old
field. I have never had a more confused or eerie sensation; not
fear, but a sort of helplessness in which for an instant I
actually began to doubt whether it was I myself, David Grayson,
who stood there in the dark meadow, or whether I was the victim
of a peculiarly bad dream. I suppose many other people have had
these sensations under similar conditions, but they were new to
me.
I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never
wanted so much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at
that moment.
What a coddled world we live in, truly. That being out after dark
in a meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In
all my life, indeed, and I suppose the same is true of
ninety-nine out of a hundred of the people in America to-day, I
had never before found myself where nothing stood between nature
and me, where I had no place to sleep, no shelter for the
night--nor any prospect of finding one. I was infinitely less
resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, or a
gray squirrel.

Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing,
with a vague fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in
some manner might slip away from under me.


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