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Rang the bell for dinner, but before ordering it, asked the waiting-maid, with a complacent idea that I had improved my walking pace, and made more than half the way "How far is it to Saffron Walden?" "Twelve miles, sir." "Twelve miles, indeed! Why, it is only twelve miles from Great Bardfield!" "Well, this is Great Bardfield, sir." "Great Bardfield! What! How is this? What do you mean?"
The next day I made a longer distance still, from Coggeshall to Great Bardfield, or about eighteen miles; and felt at the end that I had established a reasonable claim to convalescence. The country on the way was marked by the quiet and happy features of diversified plenty.
At Bardfield I was again homed for the night by a Friend; and after tea made an evening walk with him about the farm of a member of the same society, living in the outskirts of the town, who cultivates about 400 acres of excellent land, and is considered one of the most practical and successful agriculturists of Essex.
So, taking a second leave of them in the course of three hours, I set out again on my walk, a wiser man in the practical understanding of the proverb, "The longest way around is the shortest way there." At 2 p.m. I reached Thaxted, and rectified my first notion of the town, formed when I mistook it for Bardfield.
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