A WEEK ON WALDEN'S RIDGE. 



THKOUGHOUT my stay in Chattanooga I 

 looked often and with desire at a long, flat- 

 topped, perpendicular-sided, densely wooded 

 mountain, beyond the Tennessee River. Its 

 name was Walden's Ridge, I was told ; the 

 top of it was eighty miles long and ten or 

 twelve miles wide ; if I wanted a bit of wild 

 country, that was the place for me. Was it 

 accessible? I asked. And was there any 

 reasonable way of living there? Oh yes; 

 carriages ran every afternoon from the city, 

 and there were several small hotels on the 

 mountain. So it happened that I went to 

 Walden's Ridge for my last week in Ten- 

 nessee, and have ever since thanked my 

 stars as New England Christians used to 

 say, in my boyhood for giving me the 

 good wine at the end of the feast. 



The wine, it is true, was a little too freely 

 watered. I went up the mountain in a rain, 

 and came down again in a rain, and of the 



