I strayed into a beautiful region under the northern slope of Mount Ida, shady ravines, clear brooks and cascades. How it all found room between Newtonville Avenue and the railroad, I did not trouble to explain. Walking east, I followed a stream which must have been a tributary of a larger one. Presently I saw a spring issuing from a cleft in the ledges, and at the same moment discovered that I had a companion for whom I wanted to get a drink of water. A large tin cup conveniently developed in my hand and I climbed ten or fifteen feet to fill it. But to my annoyance, the cup expanded to a bathtub containing lumps of black loam and enormous earth roundworms. While I was rinsing it out, I woke.