THE COMICAL CHEBEC 



I HAD taken a long journey and penetrated 

 into one of the obscure corners of New Eng- 

 land, a little away from the coast, a corner 

 not at that time " discovered." I had taken 

 possession of a pleasant large room, looking 

 from one window into the woods, from the 

 other down the road, our only tie to the com- 

 mon every-day world. I had spent the usual 

 hour "getting settled." That means more 

 than hanging dresses in a clothes-press, and 

 placing other things in bureau drawers. For 

 I had been many years a summer sojourner 

 in farmhouses and out-of-the-way places, and 

 although I had learned to " put up with " 

 and to " do without," in fact, to adapt my 

 demands to whatever crude style of living I 

 encountered, still there were several ways in 

 which I could mitigate my lot, and my trunk 

 held a curious conglomeration of these " miti- 

 gators." 



