The Mountain Farm
I have seen the farm, from the distance, on one of my mountain hikes. I could have gone there, walking down on one side of the valley, crossing the brook at its bottom, climbing up the slope on the other side — the border is not guarded, it is hardly marked, I could have gone there and been back and still reached my destination long before dark, but what would have been the use? I took the the water bottle and a piece of bread out of my back pack, sat down on the trunk of a conveniently fallen...