Where Town and Country Meet 



difficulties and perplexities began. The 

 wooded ridge, which from the easy outlook 

 of the village seemed like the mere threshold 

 of my enterprise, proved to be a mountain 

 of some consequence in itself, steep, tangled, 

 and pathless. I was more than an hour in 

 toiling up over its declivity and getting 

 down into the woods on the other side. And 

 even then I should have lost my way, had 

 I not stopped to consult my compass every 

 few minutes. For the first time I began to 

 reflect on the wisdom of that whimsical but 

 entirely credible saying, "The longest way 

 around is the shortest way there." 



However, I knew that, if I kept deter- 

 minedly westward, I must come out at 

 length in the big clearing visible from the 

 slopes on the other side of the river. Once 

 there, I should be in sight of the mountain 

 again, and able to get my bearings. So I 

 plunged on, compass in hand, wading 

 through mossy bog-holes, climbing logs, 

 battling with thickets, till I heard, far ahead, 

 the welcome sound of a cow-bell. That 

 meant either a clearing or a path to a clear- 

 ing, and I struck out with new courage 

 in the direction of the sound. Presently the 

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