goin' up there."

He spread out the glittering folder and placed his big forefinger on a
spot about the size of Rhode Island somewhere this side of the Rockies.

"How'll you do it?" I asked.

"Oh, a lineman can go anywhere," said he with a flourish, "A lineman
don't have to beg a job. Besides, I got eighty dollars sewed up."

Talk about freedom! Never have I got a clearer impression of it than
Bill gave me that day. No millionaire, no potentate, could touch him.

The crew came back all too soon for me. Bill knocked the ashes out of
his pipe on his boot heel, and put his "bucket" back in the truck. Five
minutes later he was climbing a tall pole with legs bowed out, striking
in his spikes at each step. From the cross-arm, up among the hemlock
tops, he called out to me:

"Good-bye, pard."

"Stop in, Bill, and see me when you come by my place," said I.

"You bet," said he.

And he did, the next day, and I showed him off to Harriet, who brought
him a plate of her best doughnuts and asked him about his mother.

Yesterday I saw him again careering by in the truck. The job was
finished. He waved his hand at me.

"I'm off," said he.

"Where?" I shouted.

"Canada."

CHAPTER XIV

ON LIVING IN THE COUNTRY

"Why risk with men your hard won gold*?
Buy grain and sow your Brother Dust
Will pay you back a hundred fold--
The earth commits no breach of trust."

_Hindu Proverb, Translated by Arthur Guiterman_.

It is astonishing how many people there are in cities and towns who have
a secret longing to get back into quiet country places, to own a bit of
the soil of the earth, and to cultivate it. To some it appears as a
troublesome malady only in spring and will be relieved by a whirl or two
in country roads, by a glimpse of the hills, or a day by the sea; but to
others the homesickness is deeper seated and will be quieted by no hasty
visits. These must actually go home.

I have had, in recent years, many letters from friends asking about
life in the country, but the longer I remain here, the more I know about
it, the less able I am to answer them--at least briefly. It is as though
one should come and ask: "Is love worth trying?" or, "How about
religion?" For country life is to each human being a fresh, strange,
original adventure. We enjoy it, or we do not enjoy it, or more
probably, we do both. It is packed and crowded with the zest of
adventure, or it is dull and miserable. We may, if we are skilled
enou