CHAPTER III. 



OLD ORCHARD AND BOSTON. 



"We shall look for a report of your journey in the 

 Transcript," has been said to us many times, and we will 

 respond to the interest manifested in our wanderings by 

 sharing with our friends through your columns as much 

 of our pleasure as is transferable. 



The fact that we had driven between three and four 

 thousand miles in ten successive summers by no means 

 diminished our desire to go again, and it gave us great 

 pleasure when, in reply to "Can we have the horse for a 

 journey this summer?" Mr. A. said "Why, I suppose of 

 course you will go." We decided to start about the 

 middle of July, a little earlier than usual, and one might 

 well imagine that in the intervening weeks many routes 

 were planned and talked over, but in truth we said 

 nothing about it until the last moment, when we asked 

 each other, "Have you thought where to go?" and in turn 

 each answered "No." It may seem strange and suggest 

 lack of purpose, but we like our journeys to make them- 

 selves, as a certain novelist says her stories write them- 

 selves, and she cannot tell when they begin how they will 

 end. 



As we tried to decide which direction to take first, we 

 wondered if we ever could have another journey as 

 delightful as the last, when we crossed the borders into 

 Canada; then we recalled all we enjoyed on our White 



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