14000 MILES 



by the recent land slides on Mt. Liberty and Flume 

 Mountain, which looked like silver cascades. Charming 

 pictures meet the eye in every direction, but none more 

 lovely than that along the Connecticut River near the 

 Ox Bow. 



We took mental possession of the whole scene in a 

 very few minutes, and, with a last look at the "billows," 

 sought shelter under some rocks long enough to recover 

 our breath and gather our pockets full of daisies ; then 

 returned to the house. A very frail-looking elderly lady 

 was sitting by the fire, and we wondered how she ever 

 lived through the jolting ride up the mountain, and how 

 she could ever get down again. But our own transpor- 

 tation was the next thing for us, and we found some 

 impatient parties had started off with our driver and left 

 us to the mercy of another. We were disappointed at 

 first, but when we found the new driver was just as good 

 and wise as the other, and that his was "the best team on 

 the mountain," we were reconciled. 



As we drove along the Ridge, he said he did not often 

 trot his horses there, but when the wind blew so hard he 

 wanted to get over it as soon as possible. We held on to 

 each other and the buckboard, and believed him when he 

 told us that, a few days before, he took a young man up 

 in a single team, and the horse and buckboard were 

 blown off the road, and the breath of the young man 

 nearly forsook him forever. We enjoyed even that part 

 of the ride, and when we got down a little way the fright- 

 ful wind subsided into gentle zephyrs, so warm and soft 

 that not a wrap was needed. Our driver was in no haste, 

 and we stopped to gather ferns and flowers by the way, 



59 



