14000 MILES 



could only laugh at ourselves and say, "Poor Charlie!" 

 We had been to Mt. McGregor, however, and that is 

 something, and it chanced to be the anniversary of Gen- 

 eral Grant's death. 



We spent the night at Glen's Falls, and tried in vain to 

 find some one who could tell us how to go home over the 

 Green Mountains. We knew the way from Lake Cham- 

 plain, having driven up that way several years ago, and 

 finally concluded the longest way round might be the 

 pleasantest way home. We had been to Lake George, 

 and that was one reason we wanted to go again ; so off 

 we skipped over the nine miles' plank road, and sat for 

 two hours on the shore in front of the Fort William 

 Henry House writing letters, which ought to have been 

 inspired, for we dipped our pens in the waters of the 

 beautiful lake. When we went to the stable for Charlie, 

 we found an old man who knew all about the Green 

 Mountains, and if we had seen him at Glen's Falls we 

 should have been on our direct way home. Our last plan 

 was too pleasant to repent of now, and we took directions 

 towards Lake Champlain. We had to retrace our way on 

 the plank road several miles, then go across country to 

 Fort Ann, a distance of sixteen miles. It is perplexing 

 when you leave the main roads, there are so many ways 

 of going across, and no two people direct you the same, 

 which makes you sure the road you did not take would 

 have been better. 



At Fort Ann we had comforts without luxuries, in the 

 homeliest little old-fashioned hotel, and stayed until the 

 next afternoon to give Charlie a rest, then drove twelve 

 miles to Whitehall, where we had a good-looking hotel 



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