vn 



A BED OF BOUGHS 



"TTTHEN Aaron came again to camp and tramp 

 ' ' with me, or, as he wrote, *' to eat locusts and 

 wild honey with me in the wilderness," it was past 

 the middle of August, and the festival of the season 

 neared its close. We were belated guests, but per- 

 haps all the more eager on that account, especially 

 as the country was suffering from a terrible drought, 

 and the only promise of anything fresh or tonic or 

 cool was in primitive woods and mountain passes. 



"Now, my friend," said I, "we can go to Canada, 

 or to the Maine woods, or to the Adirondacks, and 

 thus have a whole loaf and a big loaf of this bread 

 which you know as well as I will have heavy streaks 

 in it, and will not be uniformly sweet; or we can 

 seek nearer woods, and content ourselves with one 

 week instead of four, with the prospect of a keen 

 relish to the last. Four sylvan weeks sound well, 

 but the poetry is mainly confined to the first one. 

 We can take another slice or two of the Catskills, 

 can we not, without being sated with kills and di- 

 viding ridges 1 " 



"Anywhere," replied Aaron, "so that we have a 

 good tramp and plenty of primitive woods. No 



