hoarsely for a moment, and you are off like a shot. In ten minutes the
suburbs are behind you; the fields and farms are flying to the rear;
you dash through the woods and see the trees dodging and leaping
behind and around each other, performing the dance of the witches "in
most admired confusion;" in three hours you are among the hills of
Massachusetts, the mountains of Vermont, on the borders of the
majestic Hudson, in the beautiful valley of the Mohawk, a hundred
miles from the good city of Albany, where you can tramp among the wild
or tame things of nature to your heart's content.

I had for the moment no particular place in view. What I wanted was,
to get outside of the city, among the hills, where I could see the old
woods, the streams, the mountains, and get a breath of fresh air, such
as I used to breathe. I wanted to be free and comfortable for a month;
to lay around loose in a promiscuous way among the hills, where
beautiful lakes lay sleeping in their quiet loveliness; where the
rivers flow on their everlasting course through primeval forests;
where the moose, the deer, the panther and the wolf still range, and
where the speckled trout sport in the crystal waters. I had made up my
mind to throw off the cares and anxieties of business, and visit that
great institution spread out all around us by the Almighty, to make
men healthier, wiser, better. I had resolved to go into the country.
That was a fixed fact. But where?

There stood my rifle in one corner of the room, and my fishing rods in
the other. The sight of these settled the matter. "I will go to the
North," I said.

"Go to the North!" said Mrs. H----. "Do tell me if you've got another
of your old hunting and fishing fits on you again?"