CHAPTER I.I LEAVE MY FARM.
"Is it so small a thing To have enjoyed the sun, To have lived light in spring ?" It is eight o'clock of a sunny spring morning.

I have been on the road for almost three hours.

At five I left the town of Holt, before six I had crossed the railroad at a place called Martin's Landing, and an hour ago, at seven, I could see in the distance the spires of Nortontown.

And all the morning as I came tramping along the fine country roads with my pack-strap resting warmly on my shoulder, and a song in my throat--just nameless words to a nameless tune--and all the birds singing, and all the brooks bright under their little bridges, I knew that I must soon step aside and put down, if I could, some faint impression of the feeling of this time and place.

I cannot hope to convey any adequate sense of it all--of the feeling of lightness, strength, clearness, I have as I sit here under this maple tree--but I am going to write as long as ever I am happy at it, and when I am no longer happy at it, why, here at my very hand lies the pleasant country road, stretching away toward newer hills and richer scenes.
Until to-day I have not really been quite clear in my own mind as to the step I have taken.