Thought from the mind,
leaving it a sensitive plate ready to absorb impressions and thoughts as
they flit about it, silences where every one is so in harmony with his
comrades and surroundings that the breaking of them rarely jars - spoken
words so often defining the half-absorbed thoughts.
Dimly conscious of each other, of the grazing cattle the Bromli kites,
the sweet scents and rustling sounds of the bush, of each other's
thoughts and that the last spoken thought among us had been
Sabbath-keeping, we rested, idly, NOT thinking, until Dan's voice crept
into the silence.
"Never was much at religion meself," he said, lazily altering his
position, "but Mrs. Bob was the one to make you see things right off."
Lazily and without stirring we gave our awakened attention, and after a
quiet pause the droning Scotch voice went on, too contented to raise
itself above a drone: "Can't exactly remember how she put it; seemed as
though you'd only got to hoe your own row the best you can, and lend
others a hand with theirs, and just let God see after the rest."
Quietly, as the droning voice died away, we slipped back into our
silence, lazily dreaming on, with Dan's words lingering in our minds,
until, in a little while, it seemed as though the dancing tree-tops, the
circling Bromli kites, every rustling sound and movement about us, had
taken them up and were shouting them to the echo.
