tourist's ordinary requirements. At the crupper of his saddle--an old
cavalry saddle that had seen service in long-forgotten training-days--
was attached a cylindrical valise of cowhide, containing a change of
linen, a few toilet articles, a vulcanized cloth cape for rainy days,
and the first volume of The Earthly Paradise. The two warlike holsters
in front (in which Colonel Eliphalet Bangs used to carry a brace of
flintlock pistols now reposing in the Historical Museum at Rivermouth)
became the receptacle respectively of a slender flask of brandy and a
Bologna sausage; for young Lynde had determined to sell his life dearly
if by any chance of travel he came to close quarters with famine.

A broad-brimmed Panama hat, a suit of navy-blue flannel, and a pair of
riding-boots completed his equipment. A field-glass in a leather case
was swung by a strap over his shoulder, and in the breast pocket of his
blouse he carried a small compass to guide him on his journey due north.

The young man's costume went very well with his frank, refined face, and
twenty-three years. A dead-gold mustache, pointed at the ends and
sweeping at a level right and left, like a swallow's wings, gave him
something of a military air; there was a martial directness, too, in the
glance of his clear gray eyes, undimmed as yet with looking too long on
the world. There could not have been a better figure for the saddle than
Lynde's--slightly above the average height, straight as a poplar, and
neither too spare nor too heavy. Now and then, as he passed a farm-
house, a young girl hanging out clothes in the front yard--for it was on
a Monday--would pause with a shapeless snowdrift in her hand to gaze
curiously at the apparition of a gallant young horseman riding by. It
often happened that when he had passed, she would slyly steal to the red
gate in the lichen-covered stone wall, and follow him with her palm-
shaded eyes down the lonely road; and it as frequently happened that he