The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1920-03-18
That One Day on Lake
Champlain

CONTINUED from page y
know what part of Vermont and didn't
much care. If there was any part of that
state too slow to get out of our way that
was the part we were going to hit Arch
reused one last spark of rebellion and
muttered something about running on to
Rouse's Point and getting good sleep in
good bed at good hotel. The point
was fifteen miles away and It was dark
and raining with feshening wind. We
overpowered him without difficulty and
continued on our way.
Ordinarily a pebbly beach on a dark
night in driving rain would not look
cheerful, but if Heaven is as good as that
beach. looked to me that night Pm for it.
To be sure we weren't home yet. We
were on strange road six miles from
Isle la Motto and no trollies running. The
first house was suspicious and uncom-
municative, but finally vouchsafed the in
formation that there was telephone two
houses one way and an automobile three
houses the other. We voted for the auto
mobile. Then began our pilgrimage. If
anyone tells you that a shotgun weighs
only eight pounds he lies. Eighty is more
like it.
And as have remarked frequently be-
fore, it was raining. remark it fire.
quently because it was raining fequently.
Meanwhile we counted houses and greeted
the third with feeble cheers. The French
Canadian resident welcomed us in and re-
marked that we looked wet On due con-
sideration we agreed that we were. I
looked askance at the pool forming
around the feet of my companions un-
til noticed that there was larger one
around my own.
No. our French Canadian friend had
no automobile and expressed some doubt
whether anyone anywhere had an auto
mobile. We quoted our informant down
the road and referred to the third house.
Then we learned that of the two houses
we had counted one was barn and the
other was school house. Besides there
wasn't an automobile nearer than Isle la
Motto. Evidently everybody was wrong.
But there was still hope. Our new
found friend had a barouche. We
frightened at the word. When he had
finished supper he would drive us over.
But he would have to charge US a. good
price. Spendthrifts that we were, we de-
manded figures. Well, it was wet night,
it was at least five miles to Isle la Motto.
He would have to charge us-he hesitated
he considerable appraised us as well
as he could in our bedraggled condition,
we thought he was about to ask us for a
bank statement.
Would five dollars be too much? We
feigned deep thought. Five dollars? 1t
was lot of money. But there we were.
We were at his mercy. Yes, by jove, we
would pay it. Five dollars! Never will
that poor Canuck know how much money
he lost that night. We don't know our
selves. AS much as a dollar and a half
anyway.
I must hasten on to the end. The
barouche may have been barouche once.
1t would be impossible to name it now.
Two of the wheels were dished and
threatened bankruptcy at every turn. The
top sagged here and leaked there so that
it rained inside for half an hour after it
had stopped outside.
But it held together and got US home
1t was late and fear had finally entered
the sailor soul of Tommy. He was at the
telephone paging Lake Champlain for
three shipwrecked mariners. But most i'm
portant of all, supper would be on the
table as soon as we had changed into dry
clothes.
About that supper! I should like to
write eight or ten thousand words in
praise of it, but there arn't any such
words. They haven't been made yet.
Some time when am very old and very
wise and the dictionary has yielded up to
me the Utmost secrets of its being, I will
tell something, hating and inadequate
and altogether unworthy, about the ac-
complishments of Neighbor Browns cook.
Then when 1 have crossed to the Golden
Strand I shall search out the shades of
Milton and Homer and Shakespeare and
Martha Washington and among us we
shall do full justice to that cook of
Browns. Till then no more.