We Were Directed Another Way, However, And Started On
Once More.
Several times we met people going to church in
automobiles and many wore the grave look of those who wished
they had kept their life insurance policies paid up.
At one
place in the road near a steep declivity where a large machine
skidded, we saw that several devoutly crossed themselves, and
forgetting the "joined three fingers, which is symbolical of the
Trinity," they used all ten, and doubtless murmured a prayer for
the propitious completion of their journey, to which I am sure
we all could have readily echoed the amen.
All along the route we saw nothing but draggled people splashing
through the mud, their faces suggestive of fear, yellow mud, and
kindred abominations. Perhaps we were not things of beauty
either, seen through the dim perspective of rain and mud. No
doubt our faces had the appearance of sailors huddled up on
quarter-deck benches, silent and fearful of seasickness. At
last, after many vicissitudes and narrow escapes, we reached a
fine macadam road and breathed more easily and enjoyed the
scenery a bit better.
We followed a stream whose sudden and continued windings was a
never-ending delight. Its clear, cold, foam-flecked water, seen
through fringes of elm, maple and willow trees, compensated in
great measure for the discomforts we endured. It was not fringed
with reeds and lush grass, but its full flow rolled forth
undiminished, going to its source as surely as we were bound to
arrive at our destination.
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