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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 136 pages of information about Adventures in Contentment.

“Canst thou by searching find God?  Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?  It is as high as heaven:  what canst thou do? deeper than hell, what canst thou know?”

When the professor had spoken we stood for a moment silent, then he smiled and said briskly: 

“I have been a botanist for fifty-four years.  When I was a boy I believed implicitly in God.  I prayed to him, having a vision of him—­a person—­before my eyes.  As I grew older I concluded that there was no God.  I dismissed him from the universe.  I believed only in what I could see, or hear, or feel.  I talked about Nature and Reality.”

He paused, the smile still lighting his face, evidently recalling to himself the old days.  I did not interrupt him.  Finally he turned to me and said abruptly.

“And now—­it seems to me—­there is nothing but God.”

As he said this he lifted his arm with a peculiar gesture that seemed to take in the whole world.

For a time we were both silent.  When I left him I offered my hand and told him I hoped I might become his friend.  So I turned my face toward home.  Evening was falling, and as I walked I heard the crows calling, and the air was keen and cool, and I thought deep thoughts.

And so I stepped into the darkened stable.  I could not see the outlines of the horse or the cow, but knowing the place so well I could easily get about.  I heard the horse step aside with a soft expectant whinny.  I smelled the smell of milk, the musty, sharp odour of dry hay, the pungent smell of manure, not unpleasant.  And the stable was warm after the cool of the fields with a sort of animal warmth that struck into me soothingly.  I spoke in a low voice and laid my hand on the horse’s flank.  The flesh quivered and shrunk away from my touch—­coming back confidently, warmly.  I ran my hand along his back and up his hairy neck.  I felt his sensitive nose in my hand.  “You shall have your oats,” I said, and I gave him to eat.  Then I spoke as gently to the cow, and she stood aside to be milked.

And afterward I came out into the clear bright night, and the air was sweet and cool, and my dog came bounding to meet me.—­So I carried the milk into the house, and Harriet said in her heartiest tone: 

“You are late, David.  But sit up, I have kept the biscuits warm.”

And that night my sleep was sound.

IV

ENTERTAIN AN AGENT UNAWARES

With the coming of winter I thought the life of a farmer might lose something of its charm.  So much interest lies in the growth not only of crops but of trees, vines, flowers, sentiments and emotions.  In the summer the world is busy, concerned with many things and full of gossip:  in the winter I anticipated a cessation of many active interests and enthusiasms.  I looked forward to having time for my books and for the quiet contemplation of the life around me. 

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