A NIGHT OUT
Thoreau once spent the whole livelong night in the hush of the wilderness; sitting alone, listening to its sounds—the fall of a nut, the hoot of a distant owl, the ceaseless song of the frogs.
This night of mine was spent in the open; where men came and went and where the rush of many feet, and the babel of countless voices could be heard even in its stillest watches.
In my wanderings up and down the land, speaking first in one city and then in another, often with long distances between, I have had the good fortune to enjoy many such nights. Some of them are filled with the most delightful memories of my life.
* * * * * * *
The following telegram was handed me as I left the stage of the Opera House in Marshall, Mich., some months ago:
"Can you speak in Cleveland to-morrow afternoon at 2.30? Important.—Answer."