CHAPTER IX 

 STONE WALLS 



MY GRANDFATHER was a man of great physical 

 prowess. When I was a little chap he used to sit 

 me on the palm of his hand and hold me out at arm's 

 length; and at a slightly later period he would regale 

 me with sagas of his mighty deeds. One of these 

 deeds, I well remember, was the erection of a long 

 stone wall. For some reason, this wall had to be con- 

 structed in as short a time as possible, and Grandfather 

 built so much the first day that it took him two days to 

 walk back to the starting point! Grandfather was a 

 Yankee, and so was I. He knew that I knew that such 

 a feat was impossible, and I knew that he knew that I 

 knew. This made us great friends. And yet I half be- 

 lieved him ! Besides, he once took me to a piece of that 

 very wall, and challenged me to doubt his story then. 

 It was a long walk, consuming the better part of an 

 afternoon. Though we stopped a while on Huckleberry 

 Hill to get our mouths black with the delicious fruit, 

 which is never sold in the city markets (no, they are not 

 huckleberries, they are various sorts of blueberries, 

 which are quite different, botanically and gastronom- 



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