A MAY VISIT TO MOOSILAUKE 27 



In days past I have walked that whole ridge, from 

 Clinton to Adams ; and glad I am to remember 

 it. A man should do such things while he can, 

 teaching his feet to feel the ground, and letting 

 his heart cheer him. 



A turn in the road, and straight below me lies 

 my deserted farmhouse. Another turn, and I lose 

 it. In ascending a mountain we face the path ; 

 in descending we face the world. I speak thus 

 because at this moment I am looking down a 

 charming vista, forest-covered mountains, row 

 beyond row. But for the gravel under my feet I 

 might be a thousand miles from any human habi- 

 tation. Presently a Swainson thrush whistles. 

 By that token I am getting away from the sum- 

 mit, though things are still wintry enough, with 

 no sign of bud or blossom. 



And look ! What is that far below me, facing 

 up the road ? A four-footed beast of some kind. 

 A bear ? No ; I raise my glass, and see a porcu- 

 pine. He has his mobile, sensitive nose to the 

 ground, and continues to smell, and perhaps to 

 feed, as I draw nearer and nearer. By and by, 

 being very near, and still unworthy of the crea- 

 ture's notice, I roll a stone toward him. At this 

 he shows a gleam of interest. He sits up, folds 

 his hands, puts his fore paws together over his 

 breast, looks at me, and then waddles a few 



