98 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



twenty or more together, dropped into the 

 short grass before me. Every one of them 

 was a male. 



A strange custom it is, this Quakerish 

 separation of the sexes. It must be the fe- 

 males' work, I imagine. Modesty and bash- 

 fulness are feminine traits, modesty, bash- 

 fulness, and maidenly discretion. The wise 

 virgin shunneth even the appearance of 

 evil. Let the males flock by themselves, 

 and travel in advance. And the males 

 practice obedience, not for virtue's sake, I 

 guess, but of necessity ; encouraged, no 

 doubt, by an unquestioning belief that the 

 wise virgins will come trooping after, and 

 be found scattered conveniently over the 

 meadows, each by herself, when the mar- 

 riage bell strikes. That blissful hour was 

 now close at hand, and my twenty gay bach- 

 elors knew it. Every bird of them had 

 on his wedding garment. No wonder they 

 sang. 



It took me a long time to make that half 

 mile on the upper road, with the narrow, 

 freshly green valley outspread just below, 

 the river running through it, and beyond 



