Wasted Time?

LAST NIGHT I went for a walk. I took the usual turn down Choate Road and lit my pipe. It was dusk. As I passed slowly by the houses, I looked in the windows. There was a high-school girl in the yellow light of her study; an old man in his chair gazing from an upstair's window. Most of the houses were dark and quiet; but, as I neared Occom Pond, I heard the song of the marsh. It was the first time this year. In the dim light of street lamps I noticed toads hopping down the road toward the pond. I stood still and listened to them rustle in the dead leaves. There were hundreds of them. Sometimes one would give a weak croak. The toads from Occom continued to trill their success on reaching their mating grounds. A car came slowly around the pond and I tried to shoo the unknowing toads off the roadway, then laughed at my folly.

I thought of going back to the dorm to study but it was a thought too weak. I felt free walking alone with my pipe. The moon was dulled by pale loose evening clouds, but I watched it brush the pine tops. Then it passed dainty birches. The birches were stark white just as darkness came. Toads kept hopping by me and soon I was at the end of the pond. My pipe was out now so I perched on the little bridge rail near the D.O.C. House to fill up again. A dog came and lapped a drink from the edge of the pond. I listened to the music around me. The toads trilled a tune from the water. Behind me two tree toads blared back and forth like a brass section. Far off I heard a freight train coming up the valley, keeping the rhythm. Two girls came by on bikes and broke the loud silence. I tried to catch the music again, but for a time I lost the sounds of the toads the way I used to lose the "tick tock" of the great clock at home. Sometimes the pond would carry clearlv the yaps of a dog or young girl's laughter. A couple came by the house and moved about like a living hint. I grunted to myself and swung over the rail and started back. .

The clouds were breaking and I saw a few stars. My left shoe began to squeak like a summer cricket. As I left the pond, I began to feel tired—l wouldn't be able to study now. It was too late anyhow. I neared the dorm; and the "silence" of the night noises were driven from me by the shouts and slams of dormitory life. The contrast made me laugh. Laughter is a pleasant sound.