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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson: artless warbling, listening and waiting for some articulate air,
and still disappointed; and when at last I asked him what it was he
sang - 'O,' cried he, 'I am just singing!' Above all, I was taken
with a trick he had of unweariedly repeating the same note at
little intervals; it was not so monotonous as you would think, or,
at least, not disagreeable; and it seemed to breathe a wonderful
contentment with what is, such as we love to fancy in the attitude
of trees, or the quiescence of a pool.
Night had fallen dark before we came out upon a plateau, and drew
up a little after, before a certain lump of superior blackness
which I could only conjecture to be the residencia. Here, my
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