A Tramp's Sketches eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 220 pages of information about A Tramp's Sketches.

A Tramp's Sketches eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 220 pages of information about A Tramp's Sketches.

FAREWELL TO THE TOWN

The town is one large house of which all the little houses are rooms.  The streets are the stairs.  Those who live always in the town are never out of doors even if they do take the air in the streets.

When I came into the town I found that in my soul were reflected its blank walls, its interminable stairways, and the shadows of hurrying traffic.

A thousand sights and impressions, unbidden, unwelcome, flooded through the eye-gate of my soul, and a thousand harsh sounds and noises came to me through my ears and echoed within me.  I became aware of confused influences of all kinds striving to find some habitation in the temple of my being.

What had been my delight in the country, my receptivity and hospitality of consciousness, became in the town my misery and my despair.

For imagine!  Within my own calm mirror a beautiful world had seen itself rebuilded.  Mountains and valleys lay within me, robed in sunny and cloudy days or marching in the majesty of storm.  I had inbreathed their mystery and outbreathed it again as my own.  I had gazed at the wide foaming seas till they had gazed into me, and all their waves waved their proud crests within me.  Beauteous plains had tempted, mysterious dark forests lured me, and I had loved them and given them habitation in my being.  My soul had been wedded to the great strong sun and it had slumbered under the watchful stars.

The silence of vast lonely places was preserved in my breast.  Or against the background of that silence resounded in my being the roar of the billows of the ocean.  Great winds roared about my mountains, or the whispering snow hurried over them as over tents.  In my valleys I heard the sound of rivulets; in my forests the birds.  Choirs of birds sang within my breast.  I had been a playfellow with God.  God had played with me as with a child.

Bound by so intimate a tie, how terrible to have been betrayed to a town!

For now, fain would the evil city reflect itself in my calm soul, its commerce take up a place within the temple of my being.  I had left God’s handiwork and come to the man-made town.  I had left the inexplicable and come to the realm of the explained.  In the holy temple were arcades of shops; through its precincts hurried the trams; the pictures of trade were displayed; men were building hoardings in my soul and posting notices of idol-worship, and hurrying throngs were reading books of the rites of idolatry.  Instead of the mighty anthem of the ocean I heard the roar of traffic.  Where had been mysterious forests now stood dark chimneys, and the songs of birds were exchanged for the shrill whistle of trains.

And my being began to express itself to itself in terms of commerce.

“Oh God,” I cried in my sorrow, “who did play with me among the mountains, refurnish my soul!  Purge Thy Temple as Thou didst in Jerusalem of old time, when Thou didst overset the tables of the money-changers.”

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Project Gutenberg
A Tramp's Sketches from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.