138 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S BIDGE. 



them motion and a voice. The sight was 

 worth going miles to see, and yet I passed 

 it three times before it caught my eye, so 

 full were the woods of things to look at. 

 After all, is it a poor traveler who turns 

 again and again into the same path? 

 Whether is better, to read two good books 

 once, or one good book twice ? 



A favorite shorter walk, at odd minutes, 

 — before breakfast and between showers, — 

 was through the woods for a quarter of a 

 mile to a small clearing and a cabin. On a 

 Sunday afternoon I ventured to pass the 

 gate and make a call upon my neighbors. 

 The doors of the house stood open, but a 

 oflance inside showed that there was no one 

 there, and I walked round it, inspecting the 

 garden, — corn, beans, and potatoes coming 

 on, — till, just as I was ready to turn back 

 into the woods, I descried a man and woman 

 on the hillside not far away ; the man lead- 

 ing a mule, and the woman picking straw- 

 berries. At sight of a stranger the woman 

 fell behind, but the man kept on to the 

 house, greeted me politely, and invited me 

 to be seated under the hemlock, where two 

 chairs were already placed. After tying 



