14000 MILES 



We drove over a mountain that was a mountain before 

 we. reached the level of Lake Memphremagog. We had 

 been told we could save quite a distance by going to 

 Tuck's Landing, where we could be taken across to 

 Georgeville, instead of driving to Newport. We went by 

 faith altogether, having no idea what sort of a raft we 

 should find ; we only knew if it was not there we were to 

 signal for it. 



As we slowly picked our way down the last steep pitch, 

 we saw something coming towards the landing. It 

 moved so slowly we could only tell which way it was 

 going by the silver trail which we traced back to George- 

 ville. We reached the landing just in season to go back 

 on its last regular trip for the night, and were greatly 

 interested in this new, but not rapid transit. Jerry was 

 impressed with the strangeness, but is very sensible and 

 never forgets himself. We think he would really have 

 enjoyed the trip had it not been for the continual 

 snapping of a whip as a sort of mental incentive to the 

 two horses, or outlines of horses, which revolved very 

 slowly around a pole, thereby turning a wheel which 

 occasioned the silent trail that indicated we moved. A 

 man, a boy, and a girl alternated in using the incentive 

 which was absolutely essential to progress, and we 

 chatted with them by turn, recalling to mind the points 

 on the lake, and hearing of the drowning men rescued by 

 this propeller. 



The Camperdown, that charming old inn at George- 

 ville, has been supplanted by a hotel so large no one 

 wants it, and its doors were closed. We were directed to 

 a new boarding-house standing very high, where we 



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