14000 MILES 



one whispered. We looked quite like traveling parties 

 we have seen, with Charlie munching his oats, and we 

 asked them if they did not think we were gypsies. "No, 

 indeed, we never thought such a thing; we thought you 

 were ladies from Gorham." With this compliment we 

 drove on toward Gorham, dropped our mail, and then 

 turned directly eastward with the Androscoggin, to enjoy 

 for the first time the drive from Gorham to Bethel, called 

 the North Conway drive of that region. We spent a 

 night at Shelburne, almost as nice as Rumney, and 

 another at Bethel. 



With much regret we now parted from the Androscog- 

 gin, and aimed for the Saco at Fryeburg. The heat was 

 so intense that we stopped, ten miles sooner than we 

 intended, at Lovell, driving the next day to Hiram, and 

 the next to Hollis, so full of delightful recollections of 

 the wonderful hospitality of stranger friends a few years 

 ago. That charmed circle is now broken by death and 

 change, but a welcome was ready for us from those who 

 had heard about our visit there, and we were at home at 

 once. There were many summer guests, but a cosy little 

 attic room, full of quaint things, was left for us. The 

 Saco runs just before the house, and we took the little 

 walk to the "Indian's Cellar" where the river rushes 

 through the narrow gorge, and it charmed us as much as 

 before. 



We not only felt at home in Hollis, but really at home, 

 for all between us and home was familiar, whatever 

 route we might take. We eagerly drove towards Saco, 

 for that was our next mail point, and the letters that 

 came direct, and those that followed us around the 



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