14000 MILES 



for "Summer Gleanings," we thought of our friends who 

 were speeding their way back to New York just at the 

 time when the country is loveliest, and knew they were 

 envying us. Still, somehow it did not seem as if we were 

 traveling, but only going to drive as we had been doing 

 all summer. Perhaps we missed the July heat and dust! 



"Still as Sunday" gives no idea of the quiet of Stow. 

 It seemed as if one might live forever there, and perhaps 

 one could, if permitted, for just as we were leaving the 

 hotel for a little stroll, our landlady was saying to some 

 "patent medicine man," "We don't have any rheumatism 

 here, nobody ever dies, but when they get old they are 

 shot." 



We had not walked far before we came to a cemetery, 

 'and, remembering the landlady's remark, we went in to 

 read the inscriptions. No allusion was made to shooting, 

 but if it was a familiar custom the omission is not 

 strange. We noted a few epitaphs which interested us : 



"When I pass by, with grief I see 

 My loving mate was taken from me. 

 Taken by him who hath a right 

 To call for me when he sees fit." 



" A wife so true there are but few, 

 And difficult to find, 

 A wife more just and true to trust, 

 There is not left behind." 



"A while these frail machines endure, 

 The fabric of a day, 

 Then know their vital powers no more, 

 But moulder back to clay." 



" Friends and physicians could not save 

 My mortal body from the grave." 



129 



