Ah! happy days, with these innocent crimes and fleeting remorses, how
bravely we faced them, and how gaily we lived them, and how yearningly
we look back at them now! The sun was just dipping into the tree-tops
of the distant woods behind as we came to the top of the last hill that
overlooked the valley, in which lay the village of Riverdale. Wooded
hills stood about it on three sides, and, where the hills faded out,
there lay the mill-pond sleeping and smiling in the sun. Through the
village ran the white road, up past the old frame church, and on to the
white manse standing among the trees. That was Graeme's home, and mine
too, for I had never known another worthy of the name. We held up our
team to look down over the valley, with its rampart of wooded hills, its
shining pond, and its nestling village, and on past to the church and
the white manse, hiding among the trees. The beauty, the peace, the
warm, loving homeliness of the scene came about our hearts, but, being
men, we could find no words.
'Let's go,' cried Graeme, and down the hill we tore and rocked and
swayed to the amazement of the steady team, whose education from
the earliest years had impressed upon their minds the criminality of
attempting to do anything but walk carefully down a hill, at least
for two-thirds of the way.
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