FROM BEND TO BURNS 51 



ing from Hingham and arriving — and I am two 

 whole miles from the station at that. Here at 

 Mullein Hill I can see South, East, and North 

 Weymouth, plain Weymouth, and Weymouth 

 Heights, with Queen Anne's Corner only a mile 

 away; Hanover Four Corners, Assinippi, Egypt, 

 Cohasset, and Nantasket are hardly five miles 

 off; and Boston itself is but sixty minutes distant 

 by automobile, Eastern time. 



It is not so between Bend and Burns. Time 

 and space are different concepts there. Here in 

 Hingham you are never without the impression 

 of somewhere. If you stop you are in Hingham; 

 if you go on you are in Cohasset, perhaps. You 

 are somewhere always. But between Bend and 

 Burns you are always in the sagebrush and right 

 on the distant edge of time and space, which 

 seems by contrast with Hingham the very mid- 

 dle of nowhere. Massachusetts time and space, and 

 doubtless European time and space, as Kant and 

 Schopenhauer maintained, are not world elements 

 independent of myself, at all, but only a priori 

 forms of perceiving. That will not do from Bend 

 to Burns. They are independent things out there. 

 You can whittle them and shovel them. They 



