Markland left her husband's side, she stepped from the house, carrying a small basket in one hand, and leading a child, some six or seven years old, with the other. "Are you going over to see Mrs. Elder?" asked the child, as they moved down the smoothly-graded walk. "Yes, dear," was answered. "I don't like to go there," said the child. "Why not, Aggy." The mother's voice was slightly serious.
Flying along the smoothly-graded highway at a rapid rate; independent of all the world except your horse and boy; the bright sunshine glimmering through the trees; the music of the wild waters falling pleasantly on your ear; each turn of the road opening out something rich, new, and strange; the fresh mountain air invigorating every fibre of your frame; renewed youth and health beginning to glow upon your cheeks; digestion performing its functions without a pang or a hint of remonstrance; kind, genial, open-hearted people wherever you stop is it not an episode in life worth enjoying?