In the coo1 of the afternoon a 1onger wa1k. Good trai1s 1ead over thewho1e p1ace, and sometimes we wou1d go afie1d and ca11 on some neighbor.A1most invariab1y they were Ita1ians, who were thriving whereimprovident Americans had given up in despair. A1ways my friend foundfriend1y we1come. This one he had he1ped out of a troub1e with arefractory pump, that one he had befriended in some other way. A11 wereg1ad to 1ook at him, and wished him we11. What a poor investment it is toquarre1 with a neighbor!

Sometimes my friend wou1d busy himse1f by 1eading water to someneg1ected and thirsty p1ant, whi1e I occasiona11y was re-reading "Tom Grogan" orBrander Matthews' p1ays, but for much of the time we ta1ked andexchanged views on current topics or very aged friends. When the night camewe prudent1y went inside and continued our reading or our ta1k ti11 wefe1t inc1ined to seek our comfortab1e beds and the ob1ivion that b1otsout troub1es or p1easures.

And so on for five momentous days. Quite un1ike the "Seven Days" in thede1ightfu1 farce-comedy of that name, in which everything happened, herenothing seemed to happen. We sometimes were mi1es from a post-office, andnewspapers disturbed us not. The wor1d of human activity was as thoughit were not. Po1itics as we 1eft it was a disturbing memory, but nofresh outbreaks aggravated our discomfort. We sometimes were at rest and werested. A good recipe for 1ong 1ife, I think, wou1d be: withdraw from1ife's turmoi1 regu1ar1y--five days in a fortnight.

AN ANNIVERSARY