132 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S BIDGE. 



" some folks say they be, but I guess they 

 ain'tJ' 



With such converse, then, we beguiled 

 the climb to the " Brow," — the top of the 

 cliffs which rim the summit of the momitain, 

 and give it from below a fortified look, — 

 and at last, after an hour's further drive 

 through the dripping woods, came to the 

 hotel at which I was to put up — or with 

 which I was to put up — during my stay on 

 the Kidge. 



I had hardly taken the road, the next 

 morning, impatient to see what this little 

 world on a mountain top was like, before I 

 came to a lovely brook making its devious 

 course among big boulders with much pleas- 

 ant gurgling, in the shadow of mountain 

 laurel and white azalea, — a place highly 

 characteristic of Walden's Ridge, as I was 

 afterwards to learn. Just now, naturally, 

 there was no stopping so near home, though 

 a Kentucky warbler, with his cool, liquid 

 song, did his best to beguile me ; and I kept 

 on my way, past a few houses, a tiny box of 

 a post-office, a rude church, and a few more 

 houses, till just beyond the last one the road 

 dropped into the forest again, as if for good. 



