There should be, in order to its
full appreciation, a mixture of weariness with a due proportion of
laziness. Too much of either detracts from the enjoyment of its
beatitudes. To _feel_ the sensation of resting, that weariness is
leaving you, and that the process of recuperation is an active, living
agency, going on all through the system, while the natural love of
repose is being gratified as an independent emotion, constitute the
very perfection of mere animal enjoyment. The musquitoes at midday
have gone to their rest, or if a straggler comes buzzing and singing
about your ears, you are lulled rather than disturbed by his song. If
he takes his drop of blood from your veins, the tickling of his tiny
lance is but a pleasant titilation, and you let him feed on, almost
grateful for his kindness in keeping you from sleeping too soundly, or
losing in utter oblivion the full extent of the luxury of
perfect repose.
After an hour's rest, we launched our little fleet upon the river
again, and while the sun was yet above the western highlands, we stood
upon the broad flat rock at the mouth of Bog River, looking out over
Tupper's Lake, one of the most beautiful sheets of water that the sun
or the stars ever looked upon. Our sea-biscuit was getting low, and
our egress from the wilderness was therefore becoming, in some sort, a
necessity.
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