150 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S KIDGE. 



tain reached, in some mysterious way, 

 without going uphill was more than I 

 could say. 1 



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, 



1 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. 



