CONTAINING VALUABLE STATISTICS And the morning was like unto the evening.

Summer was still to be our companion, and, as the evening of our coming to Cohocton had been the most dreamlike of all the ends of our walking days--had, so to say, been most evening-spiritual, so the morning of our Cohocton seemed most morning-spiritual of all our mornings, most filled with strange hope and thrill and glitter.

We were afoot earlier than usual.

The sun had hardly risen, and the shining mists still wreathed the great hill which overhangs the village.

We were for calling it a mountain, but we were told that it lacked fifty feet of being a mountain.