Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-08-18
The Happy Valley

TWO friends, who may be called for pres
ent purposes Messrs. Madrigal and Dog
gere, dismounted from the West Chester
trolley at the crossing of Darby creek. Mad
rgaI rolled a cigarette. Doggcrcl filled
pipe They paid their respects to the old
sawmil and Mr.. Founders, its presiding
deity. Then they set off for n tramp up the
valley.
1t was a genial afternoon, after Il night
of thrashing rain and gale. The air was
meek and placid the sky riotous blue.
After the tumultuOus washing of the storm
all the heavenly linen was hung out to dry,
bullying and ballooning in snowy clots along
the uppcr dome. The tents of crcckside
campers were soddPn, and great branches
lay scattered on the meadows, wrenched
down by the wind. BY Mr.. Sanderson $ farm
Mt BrookthOrpe Il scOutmaSter was breaking
Scamp, preparing to take his boys home. They
had only been there four days and the grieved
urchins stood in miserable silence. The hur-
ricane of the night before had nearly washed
them away, and as everything was so wet
their leader feared to let them sleep ON the
ground. The boys were heartbroken, but the
scoutmaster said sagely: I'D rather have
the bows mad at me than their mothers
TN SPITE of the recent downpour, the
l. walking was admirable. Roads were
DAMP easy underfoOt, free from dust. Mad
rigal and Doggercl were gay at heart. Ihey
scrambled up the embanklncnt OF the deserted
Delaware County Railroad, which is the
most direct pathway toward the headwaters
of Darby. 1t is possible to go along the
bank of the creek, but underbrush was still
drenched, and Mr.. Sanderson uttered cryptic
warning of q certain bull. On the grass
grown track of the antique railroad, tread
ing gingerly over worm eaten wooden tres
ties, the explorer enjoys perfect sunny tran
ouillity. 1t is only five miles from the city
limits. but one moves in the heart of bird
song and ancient solitude One freight tram
n day is the traffic Of the forgotten line,
and probably the director general OF rail
roads never heard of it. 1t would not be
surprising to meet Rip Van Wrinkle pacing
thoughtfuI'y along the mouldering ties. And
as il is raised high above the valley, the
walker gains a fair prospect over the green
country of Darbyland. The creek, swollen
with rain, brawled rapidly along its winding
shadows Cattle munched in the meadows
GoIdenrod was minting its gold, and first
faint suggestion of autumn breathed in the
sIeepy air. Madrigal tore off his linen
collar, stuffed it in his pocket, >and fell to
ouoting Keats. Doggerel having uttered
DalnIul WOTuS uDOul llc Oiu NihVi 'io'
fc. now evaporated, Madrigal bestirred his
memory of the Ode to Autumn. 'Or by a
cider press, with patient look Thou watchest
the last oozings, hours by hours" Madrigal
10 a man of well stored mind, and as the
wayfarers tripped nimbly along the ties,
where wild flowers embroider the old cut
| tings and deserted farms stand crumb!ing
along knotted apple trees, he beguiIed the
tourney with varied speculation and dis
course.
At T. long abandoned station known as
| n Foxcroft-which is now only a'quarry,
and has the air of some mining settlement of
| the far West-the walkers began to under
stand something of the secret of this region.
II is fox hunting country (accordng to
the map, the next station on this mystic line
was called The Hunt and from here on they
cauqht glinpses of the life of that pictur
esnne person known as the country gen
tleman." There were jumping barriers for
horses erected in the meadows; rows of ken
nels. and a red checked squire with riding
rrop and CATERS striding along the road
| Along that rolling valley, with whispering
| cornfelds and fair white mansions lingering
| among trees, is the color and contour OF
rural England, long settled, opulent and
serene. In one thing only does it lack Eng
isk chorm there are no old ale houses along
J the way. No. Kings Arms or Wagon ani