Exclamations of surprise greeted us as we drove to the cottage by the lake, where we spent the rainy Sunday two weeks ago. We took snap shots of our friends and left messages for those soon to join them for the summer. We do not tell you where this restful spot is, for somehow we feel more in sympathy with our friends who like the seclusion, than with the man who would like to “boom” the place, and asked us to mention he had land to sell.
July 17.—Another bright day! What wonderful weather! And how lovely the drive over Dublin hills overlooking the lake, with beautiful summer homes all along the way and varying views of Monadnock!
July 18.—Took a parting snap shot of Monadnock, for the sun shone on this last day of our journey, as it has done on every other—except that first rainy Sunday, when stopping over for the rain brought us at just the right time at every point on the trip.
According to record of distances in Wheeling Notes, we have journeyed five hundred and forty miles, over four hundred by carriage, and the time record is two weeks and five days. If odometers and carriage clocks had been in vogue from the beginning of our journeying, the sum total recorded would be about 14000 MILES, and nearly two years in time. A journey now would seem incomplete without a note-book tucked behind the cushion, for remarks along the way.
POSTSCRIPT.
BUGGY JOTTINGS OF A SEVEN HUNDRED MILES DRIVE.
CIRCUIT OF THE NEW ENGLAND STATES.
Postscripts in general are not considered good form, but this one is exceptional, and may be pardoned by virtue of its length. This book did not exist to “material sense,” until after this journey, but it existed in mind, and even more tangibly in the manuscript, which we took along with us for the final reading before placing it in the printer’s hands. We had guarded the precious pages for some weeks, many times having tied it up with the diary, ready to be snatched at an earthquake’s notice.
Book-reading had been a lifetime pleasure, but book-making was entirely new to us, and we were greatly interested in the work of detail—the preparation of manuscript, form of type, Gothic or old French style, paper, modern and antique, leaves cut or uncut, “reproduction of Ruskin,” everything in fact from cover to copyright.
The notes of more than 14000 miles in addition to the seven hundred miles driving made this journey one of unusual interest.
As usual we had no plan beyond going north for a month’s drive, a longer time than we have taken for several years. At the last moment, as it invariably happens when we have had some particular direction in mind, we decided to go south, spend Sunday with friends in Rhode Island, and take a turn in Connecticut before facing north.