insanity, and I used to run away when this pilgrim came, for she
was not talkative like Larkin Moore. I fancied she disliked
children, and so I shrank from her.

There were other odd estrays going about, who were either well
known, or could account for them selves. The one human phenomenon
that filled us little ones with mortal terror was an unknown
"man with a pack on his back." I do not know what we thought he
would do with us, but the sight of one always sent us breathless
with fright to the shelter of the maternal wing. I did not at
all like the picture of Christian on his way to the wicket-gate,
in "Pilgrim's Progress," before I had read the book, because he
had "a pack on his back." But there was really nothing to be
afraid of in those simple, honest old times. I suppose we
children would not have known how happy and safe we were, in our
secluded lane, if we had not conjured up a few imaginary fears.

Long as it is since the rural features of our lane were entirely
obliterated, my feet often go back and press, in memory, its
grass-grown borders, and in delight and liberty I am a child
again. Its narrow limits were once my whole known world. Even
then it seemed to me as if it might lead everywhere; and it was
indeed but the beginning of a road which must lengthen and widen
beneath my feet forever.

II.

SCHOOLROOM AND MEETING-HOUSE.

THERE were only two or three houses between ours and the main