away. However, I may make a note, in passing, of a paradox which I was very shortly to discover. It is this. A mile is the most elastic measurement in existence. If the person at the other end of it is one whom you dislike, it is no more protection against his company than if it were a hundred-yard dash; if, on the contrary, you like him, and wish to see him at frequent intervals, that mile which separates you from him might as well be the diameter of the earth. It is only the most disagreeable persons who are always within reach.
My first glimpse of the land which was now at my disposal was on one of those April days which summer seems to send out in the manner of tradesmen’s samples — “If you like this style of weather, we are now prepared to supply it in any quantity,” etc. I did like the style enormously. As I passed up the quiet country road to which I had been directed by the agent, I observed with pleasurable emotion that everything in sight was touched with
