Just before I started, Utis produced a book, from which he tore one of the printed forms it contained. This I found to be a diagram of the roads and cross-roads of the district, each being numbered, or otherwise distinguished with as much system as the streets of a city. I had, after this, frequent occasion to appreciate the enormous convenience of these diagrams. By means of one of the ingenious ink-pencils then in use, Utis lined out my road, and, after explaining the signs by which I should recognize the turnings, placed the diagram in a clip so arranged as to hold it in a position convenient for reference.
A ride of about ten miles, accomplished in a little more than half an hour, brought me to my destination. At that hour I had the roads almost to myself; most people being engaged in listening to the after-breakfast concert, the one great esthetic enjoyment of the day.
Hulmar I found sitting on the veranda amid a group of neighbors. The sound of music from within showed that I had arrived in time for the latter part of the performance, in which I, too, soon became so absorbed as to become forgetful for a time, both of the place and of the occasion of my coming.
After the music had ceased in one triumphant burst of melody that long lingered on my ear, the visitors soon took their leave. They were neighbors from the next house, whose apparatus had happened to be out of order that morning. From some words that fell from them, I understood that Reva, whom I did not see, had set out immediately after breakfast for her post of duty, it being her turn for duty that week.
My host, evidently gratified by my promptitude in ac-
