upon the matter of religion, in which argument, as I believe, I was the
victor. I then went on north out of this town and came into a wood of
enormous size. It was miles and miles across, and the trees were higher
than anything I have seen outside of California. It was an enchanted
wood. The sun shone down through a hundred feet of silence by little
rounds between the leaves, and there was silence everywhere. In this
wood I sojourned all day long, making slowly westward, till, in the very
midst of it, I found a troubled man. He was a man of middle age, short,
intelligent, fat, and weary. He said to me:

"Have you noticed any special mark upon the trees? A white mark of the
number 90?"

"No," said I. "Are there any wild boars in this forest?"

"Yes," he answered, "a few, but not of use. I am looking for trees
marked in white with the number 90. I have paid a price for them, and I
cannot find them."

I saluted him and went on my way. At last I came to an open clearing,
where there was a town, and in the town I found a very delightful inn,
where they would cook anything one felt inclined for, within reason, and
charged one very moderately indeed. I have retained its name.

By this time I was completely lost, and in the heart of Fairyland, when
suddenly I remembered that everyone that strikes root in Fairyland loses
something, at the least his love and at the worst his soul, and that it
is a perilous business to linger there, so I asked them in that hotel
how they worked it when they wanted to go west into the great towns.
They put me into an omnibus, which charged me fourpence for a journey of