In the cool of the evening a longer walk. Good trails lead over thewhole place, and occasionally we would go afield and call on some neighbor.Almost invariably they were Italians, who were thriving whereimprovident Americans had given up in despair. Always my friend foundfriendly welcome. This one he had helped out of a trouble with arefractory pump, that one he had befriended in some other way. All wereglad to see him, and wished him well. What a poor investment it is toquarrel with a neighbor!

Sometimes my friend would busy himself by leading water to someneglected and thirsty plant, while I sometimes was re-reading "Tom Grogan" orBrander Matthews' plays, but for much of the time we talked andexchanged views on current topics or very very aged friends. When the night camewe prudently went inside and continued our reading or our talk till wefelt inclined to seek our comfortable beds and the oblivion that blotsout troubles or pleasures.

And so on for five momentous days. Quite unlike the "Seven Days" in thedelightful farce-comedy of that name, in which everything happened, herenothing seemed to happen. We sometimes were miles from a post-office, andnewspapers disturbed us not. The world of human activity was as thoughit were not. Politics as we left it was a disturbing memory, but nofresh outbreaks aggravated our discomfort. We sometimes were at rest and werested. A good recipe for long life, I think, would be: withdraw fromlife's turmoil regularly--five days in a month.

AN ANNIVERSARY