150 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S BIDGE. 



tain — reached, in some mysterious way, 

 without going uphill — was more than I 

 could say.^ 



Nor did it matter. I was glad to be 

 there. It was a pleasant place and a pleas- 

 ant hour, with an oak root for a seat, and 

 never an insect to trouble me. That, by the 

 way, was true of all those Tennessee forests, 

 — when I was there, I mean ; from what I 

 heard, the ticks and jiggers must be bad 

 enough later in the season. As men do at 

 such times, — for human nature is of noble 

 origin, and feels no surprise at being well 

 treated, — I took my immunity as a matter 

 of course, and only realized how I had been 

 favored when I got back to Massachusetts, 

 where, on my first visit to the woods, I was 

 fairly driven out by swarms of mosquitoes. 



The shoemaker was at home when I 

 reached his house on my return, and at the 

 urgent invitation of himself and his wife I 

 joined them on the piazza for a bit of neigh- 

 borly chat. I found him a smallish man, 



^ It was not the top of the mountain ; so I am now in- 

 formed, on the best of authority. I followed the map, 

 but misunderstood the man who drew it. It was a map 

 of some other route, and I did not see the top of the 

 mountain, after all. 



