Let but a few weeks pass , and when he shall strive to embrace that loved one , he will press only desolation to his heart ! And now has morning gathered up her dewy pearls , and fled away . The sun rolls blazing through the sky , and can not find a cloud to cool his face with . The horses toil sluggishly along the bridge , and heave their glistening sides in short quick pantings , when the reins are tightened at the toll-house . Glisten , too , the faces of the travellers . Their garments are thickly bestrewn with dust ; their whiskers and hair look hoary ; their throats are choked with the dusty atmosphere which they have left behind them . No air is stirring on the road . Nature dares draw no breath , lest she should inhale a stifling cloud of dust . `` A hot , and dusty day ! '' cry the poor pilgrims , as they wipe their begrimed foreheads , and woo the doubtful breeze which the river bears along with it . `` Awful hot ! Dreadful dusty ! '' answers the sympathetic toll-gatherer . They start again , to pass through the fiery furnace , while he re-enters his cool hermitage , and besprinkles it with a pail of briny water from the stream beneath . He thinks within himself , that the sun is not so fierce here as elsewhere , and that the gentle air does not forget him in these sultry days . Yes , old friend ; and a quiet heart will make a dog-day temperate . He hears a weary footstep , and perceives a traveller with pack and staff , who sits down upon the hospitable bench , and removes the hat from his wet brow . The toll-gatherer administers a cup of cold water , and discovering his guest to be a man of homely sense , he engages him in profitable talk , uttering the maxims of a philosophy which he has found in his own soul , but knows not how it came there . And as the wayfarer makes ready to resume his journey , he tells him a sovereign remedy for blistered feet . Now comes the noontide hour , -- of all the hours nearest akin to midnight ; for each has its own calmness and repose .
Soon , however , the world begins XXXXX turn again upon its axis , and it seems the busiest epoch of the day ; when an accident impedes the march of sublunary things .
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