peculiarly welcome.

"Pretty lonely," she said, in answer to my inquiry; "only an occasional
fisherman in summer, and in winter-- nobody at all."

And the little new schoolhouse in the woods farther on, with its half-
dozen scholars and the girlish face of the teacher seen through the
open door,--nothing less than the exhilaration of a journey on foot
could have made it seem the interesting object it was. Two of the
little girls had been to the spring after a pail of water, and came
struggling out of the woods into the road with it as we passed. They
set down their pail and regarded us with a half-curious, half-alarmed
look.

"What is your teacher's name?" asked one of us.

"Miss Lucinde Josephine --" began the red-haired one, then hesitated,
bewildered, when the bright, dark-eyed one cut her short with "Miss
Simms," and taking hold of the pail said, "Come on."

"Are there any scholars from above here?" I inquired.

"Yes, Bobbie and Matie," and they hastened toward the door.

We once more stopped under a bridge for refreshments, and took our
time, knowing the train would not go on without us. By four o'clock we
were across the mountain, having passed from the watershed of the
Delaware into that of the Hudson. The next eight miles we had a down
grade but a rough road, and during the last half of it we had blisters
on the bottoms of our feet. It is one of the rewards of the pedestrian