As I was going* to St. Ives 



V MET not " a man with seven wives " but many other 

 ^ things more pleasant to look upon, if not as exciting. 



The path to St. Ives, as everyone knows, leaves the main 

 road with a sharp turn under the railway line; it dips at once 

 to a little creek, then up the hill again ; and thus the whole 

 way down a valley and up a rise. But though the road 

 stretches white and inviting, with bush and orchards on either 

 side, we deserted it to-day, and travelled to St. Ives by a cross- 

 country route. It was not sheer perversity that made us leave 

 the high road ; we were driven from it by the stream of motor- 

 cars and their trailing clouds of dust. The road, which a few 

 years ago was a joy to the pedestrian firm and smooth, and 

 easy to walk upon has now been turned into a howling wilder- 

 ness by the " honk honk " of motors and their attendant dust 

 clouds. So we left the main road long before the corner where 

 the St. Ives road branches off, and set out to find our way as 

 the crow flies. 



There is always an exciting flavour of adventure in setting 

 out on such a quest. The path may be quite well worn and 

 known to many, but if it is at all off the beaten track, and you 

 find it for yourself for the first time, it has all the joys of an 

 undiscovered countrv to you. 



