my meat for a
crust of bread; I've changed my book for a sapling cane, And I'm off to
the end of the world again.

In the Undiscovered Country that morning it was wonderful how fresh
the spring woods were, and how the birds sang in the trees, and how the
brook sparkled and murmured at the roadside. The recent rain had washed
the atmosphere until it was as clear and sparkling and heady as new
wine, and the footing was firm and hard. As one tramped he could
scarcely keep from singing or shouting aloud for the very joy of the
day.

"I think," I said to myself, "I've never been in a better country," and
it did not seem to me I cared to know where the gray road ran, nor how
far away the blue hills were.

"It is wonderful enough anywhere here," I said.

And presently I turned from the road and climbed a gently sloping
hillside among oak and chestnut trees. The earth was well carpeted
for my feet, and here and there upon the hillside, where the sun came
through the green roof of foliage, were warm splashes Of yellow light,
and here and there, on shadier slopes, the new ferns were spread upon
the earth like some lacy coverlet. I finally sat down at the foot of
a tree where through a rift in the foliage in the valley below I could
catch a glimpse in the distance of the meadows and the misty blue hills.
I was glad to rest, just rest, for the two previous days of hard labour,
the labour and the tramping, had wearied me, and I sat for a long time
quietly looking about me, scarcely thinking at all, but seeing, hearing,
smelling--feeling the spring morning, and the woods and the hills, and
the patch of sky I could see.

For a long, long time I sat thus, but finally my mind began to flow
again, and I thought how fine it would be if I had some good friend
there with me to enjoy the perfect surroundings--some friend who would
understand. And I thought of the Vedders with whom I had so recently
spent a wonderful day; and I wished that they might be with me; there
were so many things to be said--to be left unsaid. Upon this it occurred
to me, suddenly, whimsically, and I exclaimed aloud:

"Why, I'll just call them up."

Half turning to the trunk of the tree where I sat, I placed one hand to
my ear and the other to my lips and said:

"Hello, Central, give me Mr. Vedder."

I waited a moment, smiling a little at my own absurdity and yet quite
captivated by the enterprise.

"Is this Mr. Vedder? Oh, Mrs. Vedder! Well, this is Dav