far-from-imperial income had made up her mind to look
after a rural school that boasted of something like a
residence. I procured a buggy and horse and went "home"
on Fridays, after school was over, to return to my town
on Sunday evening--covering thus, while the season was
clement and allowed straight cross-country driving, coming
and going, a distance of sixty-eight miles. Beginning
with the second week of January this distance was raised
to ninety miles because, as my more patient readers will
see, the straight cross-country roads became impassable
through snow.

These drives. the fastest of which was made in somewhat
over four hours and the longest of which took me nearly
eleven--the rest of them averaging pretty well up between
the two extremes--soon became what made my life worth
living. I am naturally an outdoor creature--I have lived
for several years "on the tramp"--I love Nature more than
Man--I take to horses--horses take to me--so how could
it have been otherwise? Add to this that for various
reasons my work just then was not of the most pleasant
kind--I disliked the town, the town disliked me, the
school board was sluggish and unprogressive, there was
friction in the staff--and who can wonder that on Fridays,
at four o'clock, a real holiday started for me: two days
ahead with wife and child, and going and coming--the drive.

I made thirty-six of these trips: seventy-two drives in
all. I think I could still rehearse every smallest incident
of every single one of them. With all their weirdness,