The　Friendly　Road；　New　Adventures　in　Contentment
  by　David　Grayson
  〃Surely　it　is　good　to　be　alive　at　a　time　like　this。〃
  A　WORD　TO　HIM　WHO　OPENS　THIS　BOOK
  I　did　not　plan　when　I　began　writing　these　chapters　to　make　an　entire　book；　but　only　to　put　down　the　more　or　less　unusual　impressions；　the　events　and　adventures；　of　certain　quiet　pilgrimages　in　country　roads。　But　when　I　had　written　down　all　of　these　things；　I　found　I　had　material　in　plenty。
  〃What　shall　I　call　it　now　that　I　have　written　it？〃　I　asked　myself。
  At　first　I　thought　I　should　call　it　〃Adventures　on　the　Road；〃　or　〃The　Country　Road；〃　or　something　equally　simple；　for　I　would　not　have　the　title　arouse　any　appetite　which　the　book　itself　could　not　satisfy。　One　pleasant　evening　I　was　sitting　on　my　porch　with　my　dog　sleeping　near　me；　and　Harriet　not　far　away　rocking　and　sewing；　and　as　I　looked　out　across　the　quiet　fields　I　could　see　in　the　distance　a　curving　bit　of　the　town　road。　I　could　see　the　valley　below　it　and　the　green　hill　beyond；　and　my　mind　went　out　swiftly　along　the　country　road　which　I　had　so　recently　travelled　on　foot；　and　I　thought　with　deep　satisfaction　of　all　the　people　I　had　met　on　my　pilgrimagesthe　Country　Minister　with　his　problems；　the　buoyant　Stanleys；　Bill　Hahn　the　Socialist；　the　Vedders　in　their　garden；　the　Brush　Peddler。　I　thought　of　the　Wonderful　City；　and　of　how　for　a　time　I　had　been　caught　up　into　its　life。　I　thought　of　the　men　I　met　at　the　livery　stable；　especially　Healy；　the　wit；　and　of　that　strange　Girl　of　the　Street。　And　it　was　good　to　think　of　them　all　living　around　me；　not　so　very　far　away；　connected　with　me　through　darkness　and　space　by　a　certain　mysterious　human　cord。　Most　of　all　I　love　that　which　I　cannot　see　beyond　the　hill。
  〃Harriet；〃　I　said　aloud；　〃it　grows　more　wonderful　every　year　how　full　the　world　is　of　friendly　people！〃
  So　I　got　up　quickly　and　came　in　here　to　my　room；　and　taking　a　fresh　sheet　of　paper　I　wrote　down　the　title　of　my　new　book：
  〃The　Friendly　Road。〃
  I　invite　you　to　travel　with　me　upon　this　friendly　road。　You　may　find；　as　I　did；　something　which　will　cause　you　for　a　time；　to　forget　yourself　into　contentment。　But　if　you　chance　to　be　a　truly　serious　person；　put　down　my　book。　Let　nothing　stay　your　hurried　steps；　nor　keep　you　from　your　way。
  As　for　those　of　us　who　remain；　we　will　loiter　as　much　as　ever　we　please。　We'll　take　toll　of　these　spring　days；　we'll　stop　wherever　evening　overtakes　us；　we'll　eat　the　food　of　hospitalityand　make　friends　for　life！
  DAVID　GRAYSON。
  CONTENTS
  Preface
  I。　I　Leave　My　Farm
  II。　I　Whistle
  III。　The　House　by　the　Side　of　the　Road
  IV。　I　Am　the　Spectator　of　a　Mighty　Battle；　in　which　Christian　Meets　Apollyon
  V。　I　Play　the　Part　of　a　Spectacle　Peddler
  VI。　An　Experiment　in　Human　Nature
  VII。　The　Undiscovered　Country
  VIII。　The　Hedge
  IX。　The　Man　Possessed
  X。　I　Am　Caught　Up　Into　Life
  XI。　I　Come　to　Grapple　with　the　City
  XII。　The　Return
  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　throatjust　nameless　words　to　a　nameless　tuneand　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　allof　the　feeling　of　lightness；　strength；　clearness；　I　have　as　I　sit　here　under　this　maple　treebut　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。　My　sober　friend；　have　you　ever　tried　to　do　anything　that　the　world　at　large　considers　not　quite　sensible；　not　quite　sane？　Try　it！　It　is　easier　to　commit　a　thundering　crime。　A　friend　of　mine　delights　in　walking　to　town　bareheaded；　and　I　fully　believe　the　neighbourhood　is　more　disquieted　thereby　than　it　would　be　if　my　friend　came　home　drunken　or　failed　to　pay　his　debts。
  Here　I　am　then；　a　farmer；　forty　miles　from　home　in　planting　time；　taking　his　ease　under　a　maple　tree　and　writing　in　a　little　book　held　on　his　knee！　Is　not　that　the　height　of　absurdity？　Of　all　my　friends　the　Scotch　Preacher　was　the　only　one　who　seemed　to　understand　why　it　was　that　I　must　go　away　for　a　time。　Oh；　I　am　a　sinful　and　revolutionary　person！
  When　I　left　home　last　week；　if　you　could　have　had　a　truthful　picture　of　mefor　is　there　not　a　photography　so　delicate　that　it　will　catch　the　dim　thought…shapes　which　attend　upon　our　lives？if　you　could　have　had　such　a　truthful　picture　of　me；　you　would　have　seen；　besides　a　farmer　named　Grayson　with　a　gray　bag　hanging　from　his　shoulder；　a　strange　company　following　close　upon　his　steps。　Among　this　crew　you　would　have　made　out　easily：
  Two　fine　cows。　Four　Berkshire　pigs。　One　team　of　gray　horses；　the　old　mare　a　little　lame　in　her　right　foreleg。　About　fifty　hens；　four　cockerels；　and　a　number　of　ducks　and　geese。
  More　than　thisI　shall　offer　no　explanation　in　these　writings　of　any　miracles　that　may　appearyou　would　have　seen　an　entirely　respectable　old　farmhouse　bumping　and　hobbling　along　as　best　it　might　in　the　rear。　And　in　the　doorway；　Harriet　Grayson；　in　her　immaculate　white　apron；　with　the　veritable　look　in　her　eyes　which　she　wears　when　I　am　not　comporting　myself　with　quite　the　proper　decorum。
  Oh；　they　would　not　let　me　go！　How　they　all　followed　clamoring　after　me。　My　thoughts　coursed　backward　faster　than　ever　I　could　run　away。　If　you　could　have　heard　that　motley　crew　of　the　barnyard　as　I　did　the　hens　all　cackling；　the　ducks　quacking；　the　pigs　grunting；　and　the　old　mare　neighing　and　stamping；　you　would　have　thought　it　a　miracle　that　I　escaped　at　all。
  So　often　we　think　in　a　superior　and　lordly　manner　of　our　possessions；　when；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　we　do　not　really　possess　them；　they　possess　us。　For　ten　years　I　have　been　the　humble　servant；　attending　upon　the　commonest　daily　needs　of　sundry　hens；　ducks；　geese；　pigs；　bees；　and　of　a　fussy　and　exacting　old　gray　mare。　And　the　habit　of　servitude；　I　find；　has　worn　deep　scars　upon　me。　I　am　almost　like　the　life　prisoner　who　finds　the　door　of　his　cell　suddenly　open；　and　fears　to　escape。　Why；　I　had　almost　become　ALL　farmer。
  On　the　first　morning　after　I　left　home　I　awoke　as　usual　about　five　o'clock　with　the　irresistible　feeling　that　I　must　do　the　milking。　So　well　disciplined　had　I　become　in　my　servitude　that　I　instinctively　thrust　my　leg　out　of　bedbut　pulled　it　quickly　back　in　again；　turned　over；　drew　a　long；　luxurious　breath；　and　said　to　myself：
  〃Avaunt　cows！　Get　thee　behind　me；　swine！　Shoo；　hens！〃
  Instantly　the　clatter　of　mastery　to　which　I　had　responded　so　quickly　for　so　many　years　grew　perceptibly　fainter；　the　hens　cackled　less　domineeringly；　the　pigs　squealed　less　insistently；　and　as　for　the　strutting　cockerel；　that　lordly　and　despotic　bird　stopped　fairly　in　the　middle　of　a　crow；　and　his　voice　gurgled　away　in　a　spasm　of　astonishment。　As　for　the　old　farmhouse；　it　grew　so　dim　I　could　scarcely　see　it　at　all！　Having　thus　published　abroad　my　Declaration　of　Independence；　nailed　my　defiance　to　the　door；　and　otherwise　established　myself　as　a　free　person；　I　turned　over　in　my　bed　and　took　another　delicious　nap。
  Do　you　know；　friend；　we　can　be　free　of　many　things　that　dominate　our　lives　by　merely　crying　out　a　rebellious　〃Avaunt！〃
  But　in　spite　of　this　bold　beginning；　I　assure　you　it　required　several　days　to　break　the　habit　of　cows　and　hens。　The　second　morning　I　awakened　again　at　five　o'clock；　but　my　leg　did　not　make　for　the　side　of　the　bed；　the　third　morning　I　was　only　partially　awakened；　and　on　the　fourth　morning　I　slept　like　a　millionaire　（or　at　least　I　slept　as　a　millionaire　is　supposed　to　sleep！）　until　the　clock　struck　seven。
  For　some　days　after　I　left　homeand　I　walked　out　as　casually　that　morning　as　though　I　were　going　to　the　barnI　scarcely　thought　or　tried　to　think　of　anything　but　the　Road。　Such　an　unrestrained　sense　of　liberty；　such　an　exaltation　of　freedom；　I　have　not　known　since　I　was　a　lad。　When　I　came　to　my　farm　from　the　city　many　years　ago　it　was　as　one　bound；　as　one　who　had　lost　out　in　the　World's　battle　and　was　seeking　to　get　hold　again　somewhere　upon　the　realities　of　life。　I　have　related　elsewhere　how　I　thus　came　creeping　like　one　sore　wounded　from　the　field　of　battle；　and　how；　among　our　hills；　in　the　hard；　steady　labour　in　the　soil　of　the　fields；　with　new　and　simple　friends　around　me；　I　found　a　sort　of　rebirth　or　resurrection。　I　that　was　worn　out；　bankrupt　both　physically　and　morally；　learned　to　live　again。　I　have　achieved　something　of　high　happiness　in　these　years；　something　I　know　of　pure　contentment；　and　I　have　lea