14000 MILES 



did not frighten us, for we never come across any mean 

 people in our travels, and then a clear conscience in this 

 case gave confidence, for we surely did not wish to part 

 with Jerry; and trading horses seemed to be the only 

 thing to be suspected of. 



We found a pretty woody camp that first noon, quite 

 Vermontish, but for the remainder of our two weeks' 

 sojourn in Canada it would have been like camping on a 

 base-ball ground. We needed no "line" to make us 

 realize we were in a different country. No windings and 

 twistings among the hills, but long stretches of straight 

 level roads, clayey and grassgrown, sometimes good, but 

 oftener bad, especially after a rain, when the clay, grass 

 and weeds two or three feet in length stuck to the wheels, 

 until we looked as if equipped for a burlesque Fourth of 

 July procession. 



After leaving St. Armand, to find an English-speaking 

 person was the exception, and as English is the only 

 language we have mastered, our funny experiences 

 began. If we wanted a direction, we named the place 

 desired, then pointed with an interrogatory expression 

 on the face. If we wanted the phaeton washed and axles 

 oiled, we showed the hostler the vehicle with a few ges- 

 ticulations. The oiling was generally attended to, but 

 the clay coating of the wheels was evidently considered 

 our private property, and it was rarely molested. 



At the larger hotels we usually found some one who 

 could understand a little English, but in one small village 

 we began to think we should have to spend the night in 

 the phaeton, for we could not find anything that looked 



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