14000 MILES 



point of note, but the incidents along the way, the pretty 

 woodsy roads, the ponds and brooks, the camping near a 

 farmhouse at noon, and the small country hotels, with 

 their hospitable hosts, make up by far the larger part of 

 a carriage journey. When we answered our host, who 

 asked where we had driven from that day, he said, 

 "Green-Acre? That's the place where Buddhists confirm 

 people in their error," adding "there's only one kind of 

 good people — good Christian men and women." 



We were packing up wraps and waterproofs after a 

 shower, when a white-haired farmer came from the field 

 and asked if we were in trouble. We told him we 

 were "clearing up" so as to look better. "Oh, pride, is it?" 

 he said, and asked where we came from. He seemed so 

 much interested that we also told him where we were 

 going — it was just after the "revelation." He was very 

 appreciative and wished us a hearty Godspeed. The inci- 

 dent was suggestive of the universal brotherhood to be, in 

 the millennium. At a point on the Saco we saw logs leap- 

 ing a dam like a lot of jubilant divers — singly, and by 

 twos and threes. 



We had an early drive of eight miles to meet the boat 

 at Sebago Lake, and on the way there was a slight break 

 in the harness. We drove back a short distance, hoping 

 to find the rosette lost from the head band, and finally 

 tied it up with a string. This delayed us more than we 

 realized and when we drove to a hotel near the wharf and 

 were waiting for the proprietor, we asked a guest of the 

 house what time the boat was to leave. He answered 

 quickly, "Now! run! I will take care of your horse!" 

 We ran, and not until we were fairly on board did it 



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