And what a day that was! We shall never forget it; we will never
forget it! Was that the Mohawk Valley that glittered in the morning?
(A sunshine so bright that sitting on the sunward side of the smoker
and lighting our pipe, the small flame of our match paled shamefully
into a tiny and scarce visible ghost.) Our tie strengthened and
sustained us in our zest for a world so coloured and contoured. We
even thought that it was a bit of a pity that our waistcoat was cut
with so shallow and conservative a V that the casual passerby would
see but little of that triumphant silk beacon. The fellow members of
our company were too polite to remark upon it, but we saw that they
had noticed it and took it as a joyful omen.

We had two and a half hours in Albany that day and we remember that
we had set our heart on buying a certain book. Half an hour we
allotted to lunch and the other two hours was spent in visiting the
bookshops of Albany, which are many and good. We wonder if any
Albany booksellers chance to recall a sudden flash of colour that
came, moved along the shelves, and was gone? We remember half a
dozen book stores that we visited; we remember them just as well as
if it were yesterday, and we remember the great gusto and bright
cheer of the crowds of shoppers, already doing their Christmas
pioneering. We remember also that three of the books we bought (to
give away) were McFee's "Aliens" and Frank Adams's "Tobogganing on
Parnassus," yes, and Stevenson's "Lay Morals." Oh, a great day! And
we remember the ride from Albany to Kingston, with the darkening
profile of the Catskills on the western side of the train, the tawny
colours of the fields (like a lion's hide), the blue shadows of the
glens, the sparkling Hudson in quick blinks of brightness, the lilac
line of the hills when we reached Kingston in the dusk. We remember
the old and dilapidated theatre at Kingston, the big shabby dressing