A DITHYRAMBUS OF BUTTEEMILK One discovery of some importance you make in walking the roads is the comparative rarity and exceeding preciousness of buttermilk.

We had, as I said, caught up with Summer.

Summer, need one say, is a thirsty companion, and the State seemed suddenly to have gone dry.

We looked in vain for magic mirrors by the roadside, overhung with fairy grasses, littered with Autumn leaves, and skated over by nimble water-bugs.

As our friend had said, the springs seemed to have dried up.