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+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #54695 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54695)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The New England Country, by Clifton Johnson
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The New England Country
-
-Author: Clifton Johnson
-
-Illustrator: Clifton Johnson
-
-Release Date: May 10, 2017 [EBook #54695]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Anita Hammond, Wayne Hammond and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: JANUARY]
-
-
-
-
-  THE
-  NEW ENGLAND
-  COUNTRY
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  TEXT AND ILLUSTRATIONS
-  BY CLIFTON JOHNSON
-
-  BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD
-  PUBLISHERS MDCCCXCVII
-
-  COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY CLIFTON JOHNSON
-
-  THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY
-
-  PRESS OF
-  Rockwell and Churchill
-  BOSTON
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-  PART I
-
-        PAGE
-
-  OLD TIMES ON A NEW ENGLAND FARM                                      1
-
-  PART II
-
-  THE NEW ENGLAND OF TO-DAY                                           34
-
-  PART III
-
-  NEW ENGLAND AS THE TRAVELLER SEES IT                                57
-
-  PART IV
-
-  CAMPING AMONG THE NEW ENGLAND HILLS                                 82
-
-
-
-
-LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
-
-
-                                                                    PAGE
-
-  JANUARY                                                 _Frontispiece_
-
-  OLD FIREPLACE                                                        1
-
-  A FOOT-STOVE                                                         1
-
-  CANES AND UMBRELLAS                                                  1
-
-  THE CHURN                                                            2
-
-  YE ENTRANCE OF OLD FASHION                                           2
-
-  FARM TOOLS                                                           2
-
-  A LOOM                                                               3
-
-  FANS AND BACK-COMB                                                   3
-
-  OLD CHAIRS                                                           3
-
-  ONE OF THE OLD HOUSES                                                4
-
-  A SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT                                                5
-
-  A RIVER-BOAT BEFORE THE DAYS OF RAILROADS                            5
-
-  REELS                                                                6
-
-  A COMFORTABLE FARM-HOUSE                                             6
-
-  THE FLAX-WHEEL                                                       6
-
-  FEBRUARY                                                             7
-
-  KITCHEN UTENSILS                                                     9
-
-  GOURDS AND PIGGINS                                                   9
-
-  THE WINDING ROADWAY                                                 10
-
-  A MILL-YARD IN THE VALLEY                                           11
-
-  A SUNNY GLEN                                                        11
-
-  A QUIET DAY                                                         12
-
-  A BARN-DOOR GROUP                                                   13
-
-  A TURN IN THE ROAD                                                  14
-
-  A COUNTRY STAGE COACH IN WINTER                                     14
-
-  A HILLTOP VILLAGE                                                   15
-
-  A LITTLE LAKE                                                       16
-
-  A VILLAGE SCENE                                                     17
-
-  SNOW-FIELDS ON THE HILLS                                            18
-
-  MARCH                                                               19
-
-  CLEARED LAND                                                        21
-
-  GATHERING SAP IN THE SUGAR ORCHARD                                  22
-
-  WAYSIDE BERRY-PICKERS                                               23
-
-  A FARM AMID THE BIG HILLS                                           24
-
-  A LITTLE HOME ON THE HILLSIDE                                       25
-
-  AN OLD MILL                                                         25
-
-  A SAW-MILL                                                          26
-
-  A SPRING MORNING                                                    27
-
-  A WILLOW-LINED RIVER                                                28
-
-  APRIL                                                               29
-
-  A LOOK DOWN ON THE CONNECTICUT                                      31
-
-  THE SPRING HOEING                                                   32
-
-  AN OLD TAVERN                                                       33
-
-  THE FRIENDLY GUIDE                                                  34
-
-  A HILL TOWN                                                         34
-
-  THE BACK SHEDS                                                      35
-
-  WINTER TWILIGHT--GOING UP FOR ONE MORE SLIDE                        36
-
-  A HILL-TOWN VILLAGE                                                 37
-
-  HOMES AND OUT-BUILDINGS BY THE WAYSIDE                              38
-
-  NEW ENGLAND ROCKS                                                   39
-
-  HOLDING THE HORSES WHILE HIS FATHER GOES IN TO GET A DRINK OF WATER 40
-
-  MAY                                                                 41
-
-  A DAM ON THE CONNECTICUT                                            43
-
-  AT THE RAILROAD STATION                                             43
-
-  A MANUFACTURING VILLAGE                                             44
-
-  THE RAILWAY-CROSSING IN THE VILLAGE                                 45
-
-  A STONE BRIDGE                                                      46
-
-  A GROUP OF LITTLE FISHERMEN                                         47
-
-  A WAYSIDE WATERING-TROUGH                                           48
-
-  A COUNTRY SCHOOL WATCHING A TEAM GO BY                              48
-
-  AN OLD BURYING-GROUND                                               49
-
-  BELOW THE DAM                                                       50
-
-  A MASSACHUSETTS MOUNTAIN                                            51
-
-  THE FERRYBOAT                                                       51
-
-  A FALL ON THE CONNECTICUT                                           52
-
-  JUNE                                                                53
-
-  THE GROWING BOY IN HIS LAST YEAR’S CLOTHES                          55
-
-  AT THE BACK-DOOR                                                    55
-
-  THE ACADEMY                                                         56
-
-  A HORSE-CHESTNUT MAN                                                57
-
-  AFTERGLOW                                                           57
-
-  THE VILLAGE CHURCH                                                  58
-
-  ONE OF THE HUMBLER HOUSES                                           59
-
-  A DESERTED HOME                                                     59
-
-  GETTING A LOAD OF SAWDUST BACK OF THE SAW-MILL                      60
-
-  A MEADOW STREAM                                                     60
-
-  A HOME UNDER THE ELMS                                               61
-
-  A DOOR-STEP GROUP                                                   62
-
-  A ROADSIDE FRIEND                                                   63
-
-  BETTER THAN HOEING ON A HOT DAY                                     64
-
-  JULY                                                                65
-
-  THE PET OF THE FARM                                                 67
-
-  A RAINY DAY                                                         68
-
-  A HAMLET AMONG THE HILLS                                            69
-
-  SUMMER SUNLIGHT IN A “GORGE ROAD”                                   70
-
-  ONE OF THE LITTLE RIVERS                                            71
-
-  THE VILLAGE GROCERYMAN                                              72
-
-  AN OUTLYING VILLAGE                                                 73
-
-  A VILLAGE VIEW IN A HALF-WOODED DELL                                74
-
-  THE OLD WELL-SWEEP                                                  75
-
-  IN HAYING TIME                                                      76
-
-  THE STREAM AND THE ELMS IN THE MEADOW                               77
-
-  UNDER THE OLD SYCAMORE                                              78
-
-  AUGUST                                                              79
-
-  ONE OF THE OLD VILLAGE STREETS                                      81
-
-  THE HOUSE WITH THE BARN ACROSS THE ROAD                             82
-
-  A WARM SUMMER DAY                                                   83
-
-  AT WORK IN HER OWN STRAWBERRY PATCH                                 84
-
-  SEPTEMBER                                                           85
-
-  EVENING                                                             87
-
-  A LOAD OF WOOD ON THE WAY UP TO THE VILLAGE                         88
-
-  A WATERFALL IN THE WOODS                                            89
-
-  A PANORAMA OF HILLS AND VALLEYS                                     90
-
-  A PASTURE GROUP                                                     91
-
-  OCTOBER                                                             93
-
-  A PASTURE GATE                                                      95
-
-  A ROAD BY THE STREAM                                                96
-
-  AT THE PASTURE GATE                                                 97
-
-  THE SHEEP PASTURE                                                   98
-
-  A QUIET POND                                                        99
-
-  HUSKING-TIME                                                       100
-
-  SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW                                                101
-
-  NOVEMBER                                                           103
-
-  THE VILLAGE ON THE HILL                                            105
-
-  A MILL IN THE VALLEY                                               106
-
-  CLOUD SHADOWS                                                      107
-
-  A LOG HOUSE                                                        109
-
-  AN EARLY SNOW                                                      110
-
-  ON A MOUNTAIN CRAG                                                 111
-
-  ONE OF THE GREEN MOUNTAIN PEAKS                                    111
-
-  AMONG THE BIG HILLS                                                112
-
-  A DESERTED HUT IN THE WOODS                                        113
-
-  CHARCOAL KILNS                                                     114
-
-  ROUGH UPLANDS                                                      115
-
-  DECEMBER                                                           117
-
-  A PATH IN THE WINTER WOODS                                         119
-
-  WINDY WINTER--ON THE WAY HOME FROM SCHOOL                          120
-
-  AFTER A STORM                                                      121
-
-[Illustration: OLD FIREPLACE]
-
-
-
-
-PART I
-
-OLD TIMES ON A NEW ENGLAND FARM
-
-
-[Illustration: A FOOT-STOVE]
-
-About “old times” there always hovers a peculiar charm. A dreamland
-atmosphere overhangs them. The present, as we battle along through it,
-seems full of hard, dry facts; but, looking back, experience takes on
-a rosy hue. The sharp edges are gone. Even the trials and difficulties
-which assailed us have for the most part lost their power to pain
-or try us, and take on a story-book interest in this mellow land of
-memories.
-
-[Illustration: CANES AND UMBRELLAS]
-
-To speak of “the good old times” is to gently implicate the present,
-and the mild disapproval of the new therein suggested is, from elderly
-people, to be expected. We grow conservative with age. Quiet is
-more pleasing than change. The softened outlines of the past have
-an attraction which the present matter-of-fact hurry and work have
-not, and the times when we were young hold peculiar pleasure for our
-contemplation. To actually prove by logic and rule that the old times
-were better than the new would not be easy. They had their lacks. The
-world learns and gains many things as it ages. It is to be hoped that
-it grows better as it grows older; but even so the past has its charm,
-whether one of memories in which we ourselves were actors, or of story,
-which shows the contrast to the present which is the out-growth of that
-past.
-
-[Illustration: THE CHURN]
-
-[Illustration: YE ENTRANCE OF OLD FASHION]
-
-In writing of “old times” we have a definite period in mind. All times,
-in truth, but the present are old, but wherever the phrase is met with,
-it refers to the years when the grandfathers and grandmothers then
-living were young. Ever since there were grandfathers and grandmothers
-there have been “old times,” and these times have kept even pace with
-the ageing of the world, following, shadow-like, the accumulating
-years, and always nearly three-quarters of a century behind the
-present. It therefore follows that the “old times” pictured in this
-volume have to do with the early part of this century.
-
-[Illustration: FARM TOOLS]
-
-This old life as it ran then in our New England farmhouses was the
-typical American life, and was not essentially different from country
-life in any of our Northern States. Even with that of the city it had
-many things in common. The large places had much the character of
-overgrown villages, and were not yet converted into the great blocks
-of brick and stone, now familiar, where business may throng miles and
-miles of noisy streets. Factory towns, too, with their high-walled
-mills and grimy, crowded tenements huddling about, were of the future.
-
-[Illustration: A LOOM]
-
-[Illustration: FANS AND BACK-COMB]
-
-But the dawn of the new century was the herald of change. Everywhere
-was activity. The country was new, and we had many needs which the
-Old World did not feel. Necessity made us inventors, and ingenuity
-became an American characteristic. A long line of towns stretched
-along the Atlantic coast and occupied an occasional interval along the
-larger streams, and houses were beginning to appear and hamlets to
-grow farther inland. The adventurous were pushing westward. The heavy
-canvas-topped wagons drawn by the slow-moving oxen were trundling along
-the road toward the setting sun. Under the white arch of canvas were
-stored the furniture and household supplies of a family. Behind were
-driven the sheep and cattle which should form the nucleus of new flocks
-in the new home.
-
-[Illustration: OLD CHAIRS]
-
-The century was seven years old before Fulton’s steamer made its trial
-trip. Advantage was quickly taken of this new application of power,
-and soon steam vessels were puffing up and down all the larger rivers
-and along the coast, though a dozen years elapsed before one ventured
-across the Atlantic. Railroads were still unthought of. Even wagons
-were not common for some years after the close of the last century.
-
-There were very few places in the United States whose inhabitants
-exceeded ten thousand in 1800; but the building of factories shortly
-commenced, and these became the magnets which drew a great tide of life
-from the country and from foreign shores into the cities. The factories
-gave the deathblow to the multitude of handicrafts which up to this
-time had flourished in the New England villages.
-
-[Illustration: ONE OF THE OLD HOUSES]
-
-The New England town of the period was made up of a group of houses
-about an open common. At least, it started thus. As the town grew, a
-second street or a number of them were laid out parallel or at right
-angles to the first, or houses were erected along the straggling paths
-which led to the surrounding fields; and the paths in time grew to
-the dignity of roads, and linked the scattered houses and hamlets to
-the parent village. The central village, where the lay of the land
-permitted, was built on a broad hilltop, partly, as in the case of the
-older towns, for purposes of defence, partly because here the land was
-less thickly overgrown with trees and underbrush and was more easily
-cleared. Another reason was that the Old World towns were built thus,
-and the emigrants to this country naturally did likewise, even though
-the Old World life in feudal times which gave reason for this was
-entirely of the past.
-
-[Illustration: A SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT]
-
-Here was the meeting-house, a big, quiet building fronted by the spire.
-A group of weather-worn sheds were close behind it, where parishioners
-living at a distance might shelter their horses during services. Not
-far away was the tavern, a substantial and roomy building whose sign
-swung from the front or dangled from a tree or pole close by. Then
-there would be four or five little shops and stores among the lines of
-comfortable two-story dwellings.
-
-[Illustration: A RIVER-BOAT BEFORE THE DAYS OF RAILROADS]
-
-People in general neglected ornamental trees, though there were before
-this occasionally persons who had set out shade trees, and places
-which had started lines of elms along the village streets. About this
-time Lombardy poplars became fashionable. The poplar was a French
-tree, and was therefore championed by the Jeffersonian Democrats, who
-had for France a decided partiality. For the most part these trees
-have disappeared. Still, here and there their tall, compact, military
-forms are seen standing dark and stiff, and with a still lingering air
-about them of foreign strangeness. The appearance of the common or the
-village in general was little thought of. Sidewalks received almost no
-attention, and such paths as there were had been made by the wear of
-travel.
-
-[Illustration: REELS]
-
-[Illustration: A COMFORTABLE FARMHOUSE]
-
-[Illustration: THE FLAX-WHEEL]
-
-What fine buildings those houses of old times were and still are!--not
-in the least pretentious, but having a certain distinguished air of
-comfort and stability; no suggestion of the doll-house which so many
-of our Queen Anne cottages bring to mind, but withal an appearance
-of quiet and attractive dignity. The supreme effort of the builder
-seems to have centred in the doorways, which are often quite intricate
-in their ornament; yet they are never reckless in design, and are
-always pleasing in effect. Often, too, the decoration of the doorway
-was echoed in the ornament of the window-frames and the cornice
-under the eaves. Piazzas were rare, but many houses had a porch
-before the entrance. The finer residences had knockers on the front
-doors. Door-bells came into use a little later. Instead of the modern
-door-knobs, iron latches were used, or in some cases wooden ones. If
-the latch had no thumb-piece--and the more primitive ones had not--a
-string was attached and run through a hole bored for the purpose just
-above. The latch was on the inside, and there was no way of raising it
-except the latchstring hung out. Locking was readily accomplished by
-pulling in the string. Some houses had wooden buttons on the doors just
-over the latch, which, when turned down, held the latch in its notch
-and thus locked the door. In still other cases doors were locked by
-means of a fork thrust in just above the latch, but for the most part
-doors of buildings, both public and private, went unlocked.
-
-[Illustration: FEBRUARY]
-
-[Illustration: KITCHEN UTENSILS]
-
-Houses in town, and the meeting-house as well, were painted red or
-yellow. Many houses, especially those belonging to the poorer people
-and those outside the main village, were unpainted. On some of our
-old buildings may yet be seen suggestions of these former brilliant
-hues, though sun and storm have been softening the tones all through
-the years, so that only a shadowy tint of the old red or yellow still
-clings to the weather-worn clapboards. Most houses changed color to
-white, when that became the fashion fifty years ago. Blinds of the
-modern pattern were not much used before the century was well begun.
-In the Indian days heavy wooden doors were swung to across the window
-openings to bar the passage, but after 1750 the Indians were no longer
-objects of terror to New England people.
-
-[Illustration: GOURDS AND PIGGINS]
-
-The larger wild animals were almost altogether gone by this time in the
-regions longest settled. The sheep pastured on the hills were not now
-in danger from prowling wolves or bears. Some of the old farmers had
-perhaps in their younger days heard the dismal cry of the former far
-off in the woods, perhaps had shot a black bear or two, or caught a few
-in traps; but now a bear, wolf, or wildcat was rarely seen anywhere
-in the vicinity of the older towns. Deer had almost disappeared. Wild
-turkeys could still be shot in considerable numbers, and in the fall
-great flocks of pigeons made their flights in sufficient numbers to
-darken the sky.
-
-To the boys, that seems the golden age when the Indians lurked in
-the deep woods, when bears and wolves and other wild beasts had to
-be fought with. At such a time who would not be a hero! Hoeing corn,
-digging potatoes, bringing in wood, milking cows, where is the chance
-to show our talents in these things? The heroes are in the West, the
-North, or in the Tropics now. These present times are slow and dull,
-and hold no such opportunity as had the fathers, for the valiant youth
-to show his quality. But this feeling is a mistaken one. The lives of
-the fathers were many times dull to them; they had much monotonous
-labor; wild animals were nuisances, which caused loss and worry; while
-the Indians gave them many a scare, and awakened little feeling in
-the youngster of that day beyond one of terror. At the time of which
-I write the pioneer epoch was past in New England, but many stories
-of Indians and wild beasts were told about the firesides on winter
-evenings.
-
-[Illustration: THE WINDING ROADWAY]
-
-[Illustration: A MILL-YARD IN THE VALLEY]
-
-[Illustration: A SUNNY GLEN]
-
-In a country town the coming of the stage-coach was one of the events
-of its daily life. Some places were visited by the coaches once or
-twice a week, others once a day or even oftener. When the lumbering
-coach swept down the village street with crack of whip and blast of
-horn, everybody tried to see it as it rumbled past. Happy was the man
-or boy whom business or pleasure called to the tavern when the driver
-with a flourish brought his horses to a standstill before the door.
-The driver was a very important person in the eyes of most of the
-villagers, and by none was his importance more highly appreciated than
-by himself. His dignity was made the more impressive by the high beaver
-hat he wore. News was slow in travelling, and the papers of the day
-were rather barren of the gossipy items which the average human being
-craves. This man of the world, therefore, who, in his journeyings,
-saw and heard so much of which his fellowmen were ignorant, assumed a
-magnified importance. He always found ready listeners, and his opinions
-had much weight. If inclined to be reticent he was questioned and
-coaxed to divulge his knowledge of the happenings in the outside world
-with no little anxiety. When railroads came, the coaches travelled
-remoter ways. Some found a last resting-place in backyards, and there
-amid other rubbish, grasses, and weeds gradually fell to pieces.
-Others, pushed onward by the iron horse, went West, getting farther
-and farther from their old haunts, till at last the Rocky Mountains
-were reached. It may be that some of the old New England coaches are
-still at work in those rugged regions.
-
-[Illustration: A QUIET DAY]
-
-Another characteristic vehicle of the times was a long, heavy wagon
-with an arched canvas top and high board sides, drawn by from four to
-ten horses, which travelled between Boston and towns inland, conveying
-tea, coffee, and store goods, and returning with a load of pork,
-butter, cheese, and grain. These wagons were useful when families
-wished to travel long distances. When the railroads began to do their
-former work the wagons were utilized by the emigrants, and finally on
-the Western plains were given the name of “prairie schooners.”
-
-When an inland town was in the neighborhood of a navigable stream the
-heavier supplies, such as sugar, rum, and molasses, were brought up the
-river in big flat-boats. These boats were clumsy, square-ended affairs,
-with a narrow cabin across the stern just high enough for a man to
-stand up in, where were a couple of bunks and a rude stove. A big,
-square sail on a thirty-foot mast moved the craft, but when the wind
-failed it was necessary to resort to poling. The helmsman had his post
-on the roof of the cabin, and he with one other man made up the crew.
-Sometimes they ate their meals on board, sometimes stopped at a village
-on the banks and went to the tavern. When darkness settled down they
-hitched somewhere along shore, but at times, when the wind was fair and
-the moon bright, would sail on all night.
-
-[Illustration: A BARN-DOOR GROUP]
-
-Post-offices were in the early days far less common than now, and
-postage was expensive, varying in amount with the distance the missive
-travelled. Letters were not stamped, but the sum charged was marked
-on the corner and collected by the postmaster on delivery. Envelopes
-were not in common use till about 1850. Letters were usually written
-on large-sized paper, and as much as possible crowded on a sheet. The
-sheet was dexterously folded so that the only blank space, purposely
-so left, made the front and back of the missive. Then the letter was
-directed and sealed with wax, and was ready for the mail. Towns not
-favored with a post-office would get their mail by the stage-coach,
-or, if off the stage routes, would send a post-rider periodically
-to the nearest office. As the post-rider came jogging back with his
-saddle-bags full of newspapers and letters, the sound of his horn
-which told of his approach was a very pleasant one to those within the
-farm-houses, who always looked forward with eagerness to the day which
-brought the county paper with the news.
-
-[Illustration: A TURN in THE ROAD]
-
-[Illustration: A COUNTRY STAGE COACH IN WINTER]
-
-The out-door farm life of that time was distinguished by its long hours
-and the amount of muscle required. The tools were rude and clumsy,
-and the machines which did away with hand labor were very few. From
-seed-time to harvest, work began with the coming of day light in the
-morning, and only ceased when in the evening the gray gloom of night
-began to settle down.
-
-[Illustration: A HILLTOP VILLAGE]
-
-Up to this time little fencing had been done about the pasture land,
-that being common property on which everybody turned loose their sheep
-and cattle. Many of the creatures wore bells, which tinkled and jingled
-on the hillsides and in the woods from morn till night. But now the
-towns were dividing the “commons” among the property-holders, fences
-were built, and the flocks separated. On rocky land many stone walls
-were built, but in the lowlands the usual fence was made by digging
-a ditch, and on the ridge made by the earth thrown out making a low
-barrier of rails, stakes, and brush. Gradually more substantial fences
-were built, for the most part of the zigzag Virginia rail pattern.
-
-Oxen did most of the heavy farm-work, such as ploughing and hauling,
-and it was not till after 1825 that horses became more general. The
-common cart which then answered in the place of our two-horse wagon was
-a huge two-wheeled affair having usually a heavy box body on the “ex.”
-But when used in haying, the sides of the box were removed and long
-stakes were substituted.
-
-In the summer the men were out before sun up, swinging their scythes
-through the dewy grass, and leaving long, wet windrows behind them for
-the boys to spread. Mowing, turning, and raking were all done by hand,
-which made the labor of haying an extended one. In the busiest times
-the women and girls of the family often helped in the fields “tending”
-hay, or loading it, or raking after. They helped, too, in harvesting
-the grain and flax, and later in picking up apples in the orchard.
-They did the milking the year round, using clumsy wooden pails, and
-for a seat, a heavy three-legged stool or a block of wood. The smaller
-children drove the cows to pasture in the morning and brought them back
-at night, often a distance of a mile or two along lonesome roadways or
-by-paths.
-
-[Illustration: A LITTLE LAKE]
-
-When the grain ripened, it was reaped by hand with the slender,
-saw-edged sickles. The peas and oats, which were sowed together, had
-to be mowed and gotten in; the flax had to be pulled and rotted;
-there was hoeing to be done, and the summer was full of work. In the
-fall the corn had to be cut and husked and the stalks brought in, the
-pumpkins and squashes gathered, potatoes dug, the haying finished, and
-the apples picked. Most farms had large orchards about them, and many
-barrels of apples were stowed away in the cellar, but the larger part
-was made into cider. There would usually be several little cider-mills
-in a town, whose creaking machinery could be heard on many a cool
-autumn day groaning under its labors. The shaking of the apple-trees
-and carting the fruit to mill, and the taking copious draughts of the
-sweet liquid through a straw from the tub that received it from the
-press, and then the return with the full barrels--all this had more
-of the frolic in it than real work, particularly for the boys. The
-sweet apples, in large part, were run through the mill by themselves,
-and the cider was boiled down at home into a thick fluid known as
-apple-molasses, used for sweetening pies, sauce, and puddings. When
-harvesting was done, the cellar was full of vegetables in barrels and
-bins and heaps, and heavy casks of cider lined the walls, and little
-space was left for passageways. Even in broad daylight it was a place
-mysterious, gloomy, and dungeon-like; yet its very fulness which made
-it thus was suggestive of good cheer.
-
-[Illustration: A VILLAGE SCENE]
-
-Winter, too, brought plenty of work, but it was not so arduous and
-long-continued as that of summer. There was the stock to feed and
-water and keep comfortable; the threshing to do; trees must be felled
-in the woods and sledded to the home yard, there to be worked up into
-fireplace length; tools needed mending; there was the flax to attend
-to, and, if new fencing was to be done in the spring, rails must be
-split.
-
-Grain was threshed out with hand-flails on the barn floor. On many days
-of early winter and from many a group of farm buildings the rhythmic
-beat of the flails sounded clear on the frosty air as straw and grain
-parted company. When it was necessary to go to mill, the farmer filled
-a couple of bags, fastened them across the back of his horse, mounted
-in front, and trotted off to get it ground, or perhaps his wife or one
-of the children mounted instead and did the errand. The grist-mill was
-in some hollow where the water paused above in a sleepy pond, and then,
-having turned the great slow-revolving wooden wheel against the side of
-the mill, tumbled noisily on down the ravine.
-
-[Illustration: SNOW-FIELDS ON THE HILLS]
-
-In the earliest days of spring, if the farm had a maple orchard within
-its borders, there were trees to tap, and sap to gather and boil down.
-The snow still lay deep in the woods where the maples grew, and the
-sap-gathering was done with an ox-sled on which was set a huge cask.
-In some sheltered nook of the woods a big kettle was swung over an
-open-air fire, and the boiling-down process commenced.
-
-Not much farm produce was sold for money; the people raised and made
-much more of what they ate and wore than at present, and exchanged with
-neighbors and the village storekeeper whatever they had a surplus of
-for things which they lacked. Even the minister and doctor were paid
-in part with wood, grain, and other produce. At the beginning of the
-century accounts were kept in pounds, shillings, and pence, and the
-money in use was of foreign coinage, mainly English and Spanish.
-
-[Illustration: MARCH]
-
-The kitchen was the centre of family life. Here a vast amount of work
-was done. Here they ate, spent their evenings, and commonly received
-visitors. Often it served as a sleeping-room besides. Its size was
-ample, though the ceiling was low and pretty sure to be crossed by a
-ponderous beam of the framework of the house, the lower half projecting
-from the plastering above. A few straight-backed chairs sat stiffly up
-against the wainscoted wall, and seemed to have an air of reserve that
-would change to surprise if one ventured to move or use them. There
-stood the dresser, with bright array of pewter, a small table, a bed
-turned up against the wall and hidden by curtains, a cradle, a stand,
-a great high-backed settle, and lastly, extending almost across one
-end of the room, was the most important feature of the kitchen, the
-fireplace.
-
-[Illustration: CLEARED LAND]
-
-Let us take an early morning look into one of these old kitchens. Dusky
-shadows still linger; we cannot make objects out clearly; one or two
-coals are glowing in the cavernous mouth of the fireplace, and a wisp
-of smoke steals upward and is lost in the gloomy chimney. It is late
-in the fall. When winter really sets in, the turned-up bed will come
-into use. Somebody is moving about in the bedroom, and now the door
-is opened and the man of the house, in frowzled head, comes from the
-sleeping-room. He is in his shirt-sleeves, and the heels of his big
-slippers clatter on the floor as he shuffles across to the fireplace.
-He is a smooth-faced, middle-aged man, vigorous, but slow-moving, and
-bent by hard work. He pokes away the ashes, throws on the coals a few
-sticks from a pile of three-foot wood on the floor close by, and in a
-few moments there is a fine blaze and crackle. The room is chilly, and
-the man rubs his hands together, stooping forward to catch the warmth
-from the fire. A scratching is heard on the outside door. He shuffles
-over and opens it. The cat glides in and rubs against him gratefully as
-she goes over to the fireplace, where she seats herself on the hearth
-and proceeds to make an elaborate toilet.
-
-[Illustration: GATHERING SAP IN THE SUGAR ORCHARD]
-
-The man kicks off his slippers and pulls on a pair of stiff, heavy
-boots. He takes his coat from a peg by the fireplace, puts it on and
-his cap, and goes out. Every footstep falls clear and distinct on the
-frozen ground. The big arm of the well-sweep in the yard creaks as
-he lowers the bucket for water. Soon he returns with a brimming pail,
-fills the iron tea-kettle, then goes out again.
-
-[Illustration: WAYSIDE BERRY-PICKERS]
-
-The kettle, suspended from the crane, seems quite shocked by this
-deluge of cold water. It swings in nervous motion on its pot-hook and
-shakes from its black sides the water-drops, which fall with a quick
-hiss of protest into the fire. The heat below waxes greater, and the
-cat moves to a cooler position.
-
-It is lighter now. The tea-kettle recovers from its ill-humor, and,
-half asleep, sings through its nose a droning song of contentment and
-sends up the chimney quite a little cloud of steam. Now the woman of
-the family has appeared and bustles about getting breakfast. She calls
-the children at the chamber door. Down they come, and crowd about the
-fire or scrub themselves in the wash-basin on the table. Grandfather is
-up, and he and the older boys go out-doors. Grandma helps the smaller
-children fasten their clothes and wash their faces, and assists about
-the housework.
-
-[Illustration: A FARM AMID THE BIG HILLS]
-
-Some of the older girls, perhaps grandma or the mother also, soon take
-their wooden pails and go to the barn to milk the cows. When they
-returned, they strained the milk through cloths held over the tops of
-the pails into the brown earthen pans, and then were ready to help with
-the breakfast preparations. A second kettle has been hung from the
-crane, in which potatoes are boiling. Coals have been raked out on the
-hearth, and over them is set a long-legged spider on which slices of
-pork are sizzling.
-
-By the time breakfast was ready, the men, by reason of their open-air
-exercise, had appetites which nought but very hearty food could
-appease. Before they sat down to eat, the family gathered about the
-table and stood while the head of the family asked a blessing. Then the
-older ones seated themselves, while the children went to a small second
-table at one side, about which they stood and ate, trotting over to
-the main table when they wished to replenish their plates.
-
-[Illustration: A LITTLE HOME ON THE HILLSIDE]
-
-Many families had cider on the table to drink at every meal. Other
-people would have coffee or sometimes tea, though the latter was
-not much used except for company, and neither to such an extent as
-at present. Coffee was sweetened with molasses ordinarily, and so
-accustomed did palates become to this, that when sugar came into more
-general use, it was considered by many a very poor substitute.
-
-Breakfast eaten, the household gathered about the main table once more
-and stood while thanks were returned. Then followed family worship. It
-was customary to read the Bible from beginning to end,--a chapter each
-morning,--all the family reading verses in turn; and then, if they were
-musical, a hymn was sung. Lastly, all knelt while prayer was offered.
-
-[Illustration: AN OLD MILL]
-
-Work now began again. The men left to take up their labor out of doors,
-while the women busied themselves in the house with their varied
-tasks. As the morning wore away, preparation began for dinner. What
-was known as a “boiled dinner” was most often planned. It was prepared
-in a single great pot. First the meat was put in; then from time to
-time, according as the particular things were quick or slow in cooking,
-the vegetables were added,--potatoes, beets, squash, turnip, and
-cabbage,--and probably in the same pot a bag of Indian pudding. When
-clock or noon-mark registered twelve, the dinner was dished up and the
-men called in. The meal was hearty and simple, and the family did not
-feel the need of much besides the meat and vegetables. Even bread was
-hardly thought necessary. Sometimes pie or pudding was brought on for
-dessert, but not regularly. The pie-eating era began a generation later.
-
-[Illustration: A SAW-MILL]
-
-At six o’clock the supper-table was set. The cows had been fed
-and milked; the boys had brought in the wood, and as they had no
-wood-boxes, they dumped the heavy three-foot sticks on the floor by
-the fire, or stood it up on end against the wall at one side, or piled
-it between the legs of the kitchen table; and other odd jobs were
-done, and the family gathered about the table. Bread and milk was
-quite apt to be the chief supper dish. After the blessing was asked
-and the elders had seated themselves, the children would fill their
-pewter porringers or wooden bowls and pull their chairs up about the
-fireplace. Instead, they would sometimes crouch on the stone hearth,
-while the fire glowed and crackled and set the lights and shadows
-playing about the little figures. Their chatter back and forth and the
-company of the fire made their circle like a little world in itself,
-and the grown folks and their talk seemed far, far away.
-
-[Illustration: A SPRING MORNING]
-
-When supper was ended and the dishes done, the women took up their
-sewing and knitting. Almost everything worn was of home manufacture,
-and the task of making and mending was a never-ending one. Even the
-little girls of four or five years were not idle, but were taking their
-first lessons with the knitting-needles. The men had less real work
-to do,--perhaps were occupied with mending a broken harness or tool,
-making a birch broom, whittling out a few clothes-pins, or constructing
-a box-trap in which to catch mice. Sometimes certain of the family
-played games. Evening, too, was a time for reading.
-
-Just before the children went to bed, the family laid aside all
-tasks and games, and read a chapter from the Bible and had prayers.
-By nine o’clock all had retired except the father,--the head of the
-family,--who wound the clock, pulled off his boots in a boot-jack of
-his own making, and yawned as he shovelled the ashes over some of the
-larger hard-wood coals, lest the fire should be lost during the night.
-Then he, too, disappeared, and the fire snapped more feebly, with now
-and then a fresh but short-lived effort to blaze, and so faded into a
-dull glow and left the gloomy shadows of the room in almost full sway.
-
-It is difficult to compare the old life with the new and say that in
-any particular way one was better than the other, and decide under
-which conditions character would grow most manly or most womanly.
-Human nature is the same now as fifty or seventy-five years ago; but
-that nature grows in a different soil, and surrounded by a different
-atmosphere. Our present standards are unlike the old, the conditions
-surrounding us have changed, and the way in which our feelings, our
-desires, and aspirations find expression is changed as well.
-
-[Illustration: A WILLOW-LINED RIVER]
-
-It is certain that all the elements of life and growth are within
-easier reach, and may more easily be drawn together and assimilated,
-that under favorable conditions one can get a finer and broader
-culture. Nature with all its forces, holding power for help and
-hindrance, has been brought more under man’s subjection. Contributions
-to the sum of human thought and knowledge have been many and valuable.
-As the years have slipped away the upward path has been made broader
-and smoother, and one can travel it in more comfort and go much faster.
-But, at the same time, the downward paths have increased in number and
-attractiveness, and the narrower ways and more rigid training of three
-generations ago would unquestionably have held some steady who now are
-deteriorating.
-
-The fathers made the path toward virtue both narrow and rugged. It
-required sturdy self-control to keep that way; but each sternly held
-himself, his family, and his neighbors to the task. Any backsliding
-or stepping aside called for severe reprimand or punishment. About
-their lives was a certain forbidding formality and setness. They had
-a powerful sense of independence, but were very conservative. Any
-change of thought or action was looked upon as dangerous, and they
-often made what was their independence another’s bonds. Life was to
-them very serious. In it, according to their interpretation, there was
-room for little else than sober years of work. What enjoyment they got
-in life came from the satisfaction in work accomplished, in an improved
-property, and in prosperous sons and daughters.
-
-[Illustration: APRIL]
-
-Men’s character moulds their features. It graved deep lines of stubborn
-firmness on the faces of the men of that time. There were shown
-determination and enterprise and ingenuity. In the eyes were steadiness
-and sturdy honesty. But the softening which the free play of humor
-and imagination would help produce were lacking. The man’s nature was
-petrified into a rock which held its own, and withstood the sunshine
-and the buffeting storm with equal firmness. He had ability and
-willingness to bear great burdens, and the generation did a vast amount
-of work in the world.
-
-[Illustration: A LOOK DOWN ON THE CONNECTICUT]
-
-The individual to-day is much more independent of the world close
-about him than he was seventy-five years ago. He asks less of his
-neighbors, they less of him. The interests of the community are of less
-importance to him, and he is of less importance to the community. The
-town which in the old days would have been a little world to him is now
-but a small space on the earth. Man has grown more restless. A quiet
-life of simple usefulness is not enough. His fingers itch for money and
-he dreams of fame. He feels the swirl of the current which draws him
-toward those great whirlpools of life,--our modern cities. There alone,
-it seems to him, are things done on a grand scale to be admired; there
-alone he sees fair scope for energy and ability. One by one the country
-dwellers leave the home farms, and some there are win fame and some get
-fortune, but many are forever lost sight of.
-
-[Illustration: THE SPRING HOEING]
-
-In times past there was less hurry and more content. To be satisfied
-with what one has is to have happiness, whether one lives in a hovel
-or in a mansion. To live with economy in comfort was once enough. But
-the view of what constitute the necessities of comfort has changed
-vastly, and what would once have been accounted luxury may now be but
-a painful meagreness. The people formerly travelled very little, and
-had small contact with outside life, save that of neighboring towns,
-which differed little from that at home. Journeys which now, with the
-aid of steam, are slight undertakings, were then very serious. In the
-case of journeys of any length, prayers were offered in church for the
-traveller’s safe return; and when the journey was ended, the minister
-gave thanks for the happy accomplishment of the trip. The labor and
-uncertainty connected with a long journey, and the unfamiliarity with
-the destination, made home seem a very safe and comfortable place. The
-newspapers were prosy and slow, and gave little account of the outside
-world to excite and attract the young. Long reports of legislative
-and congressional doings, and discussions of subjects political and
-religious, filled many columns. No space was wasted on light reading.
-The object was not so much to interest as to instruct the reader.
-The communications and reports of news were inclined to be prosy and
-pompous, but were always thoughtful and courteous, rarely abusive or
-trivial. There was an almost entire lack of local news, and such things
-as stories, slang, or nonsense were not allowed.
-
-[Illustration: AN OLD TAVERN]
-
-
-
-
-PART II
-
-THE NEW ENGLAND OF TO-DAY
-
-
-[Illustration: THE FRIENDLY GUIDE]
-
-The New England country has with the ageing of the century been
-depopulated. The causes are various, but the evolution of the newspaper
-has much to do with this. Visions of movement, and wealth, and fame
-penetrate daily to the smallest village. Youth has always elements of
-unfixity and uneasiness. It craves stir and excitement. The future is
-full of golden possibilities. Riches or position present no height
-which may not be scaled. But it is not the farm which holds these
-higher possibilities. No, they are to be won in store, or shop, or
-bank, where the noisy tides of the big towns keep up their restless
-sway through the leagues of brick-walled city streets. In the city
-is always movement. Not a paper comes into the country village but
-that tells of some grand emprise, some fresh excitement, that has
-its home in a familiar near city. But the chronicler for the home
-village finds no items more worthy of note than that some one’s cow
-has died, and that Amanda Jones is visiting Susan Smith. The contrast
-presented is one of home monotony and triviality, and city stir and
-grandeur. The picture is not altogether a true one. Acquaintance with
-the big places is to the country boy almost uniformly disappointing.
-The buildings are not so high nor so fine as he supposed. The din and
-crowds of the city streets grow confusing and wearisome. If he stays
-and gains a situation, and begins to work his way up in the world,
-he finds competition intense, his freedom sharply curtailed, and his
-lodgings narrow and in many ways lacking comfort. If he lives on his
-wages, which at first will be very small, close economy is required
-in food, clothes, and other expenses. In summer the heat is apt to
-make office and lodging-place stiflingly disagreeable. All through the
-year memories of the home farm, if he be imaginatively inclined, make
-Arcadian pictures in his mind, and he many times questions if he has
-not jumped from the frying-pan into the fire.
-
-[Illustration: A HILL TOWN]
-
-[Illustration: THE BACK SHEDS]
-
-No one place holds every element of pleasure or comfort. The country
-has its lacks, so has the city. The ideal home is perhaps in the
-country village within easy travelling distance of some big town. Thus
-you may largely avoid the drawbacks of either place, while you have
-within reach all their pleasures. To live far back among the hills, cut
-off from the nearest railway station by many miles of hard travelling,
-is, in these modern days, a positive hardship. Few young people will
-settle down contentedly where they are so cut off from the pleasures of
-seeing the world by occasional railroad trips, and getting the glimpses
-they crave of the busier life of the cities. Hence the tide sets away
-from the remoter towns. The masses always follow the turn of the
-current whichever way it shows strong tendency to run, and the boys,
-as they grow up, live in full expectation of leaving the home place
-after school-days are over. One by one they go from the valleys and the
-hill-tops, and merge into the busier life of the factory villages and
-the cities. An air of depression lingers over the regions they leave.
-The most vigorous life has departed, enterprise is asleep, thrift lags.
-There are still houses neatly kept, with clean, well-tilled fields
-about, and a town now and then which is a happy exception to the rule;
-but there is much which is hopeless and despondent. Few roads can be
-followed far without coming upon some broken-windowed ruin of a house,
-now for years unoccupied, and wholly given over to decay. The children
-left, drawn by dreams of the gains the city or the sea or the far
-West offered; and the parents are gone, too, now. The shingles and
-clapboards loosen and the roof sags, and within, damp, mossy decay has
-fastened itself to walls, floor, and ceiling of every room. Gaps have
-broken in the stone walls along the roadway, and the brambles are thick
-springing on either side. In the front yard is a gnarled, untrimmed
-apple-tree with a great broken limb sagging to the ground, and about
-a ragged growth of bushes. As time goes on, the house falls piece by
-piece, and at last only the shattered chimney stands, a grim monument
-of the one-day comfortable home--a memorial of the dead past. Yet even
-now life is not all of the past. Amidst the rubbish careful watching
-might reveal many of the little creatures of the field, and at eventide
-of summer days you might see a darting of wings and descry a little
-company of swallows dipping toward the chimney’s open cavern.
-
-[Illustration: WINTER TWILIGHT--GOING UP FOR ONE MORE SLIDE]
-
-[Illustration: A HILL-TOWN VILLAGE]
-
-Some of the deserted homes would be still habitable, and that very
-comfortably so, were there tenants. The life possible on these farms
-would seem much happier and more desirable than that possible to the
-poor family in the tenement of a factory village or in the crowded
-quarters of our cities. But the country is to such very “lonesome,” and
-there is hardly a city family of the more ignorant classes but will
-choose squalor in the city rather than comfort in the country. The
-noise and continual movement of the town have become a part of their
-lives, and severed from that it is but a blank, unspeaking landscape
-unfolds before their eyes. Nature is really never lonesome. Only
-our habit and education make it so seem. Nature is always singing,
-whether in our fellow humans, or in the hills and valleys, or in the
-life of plants and animals. It is we lack eyes to see and ears to
-hear. Nevertheless, mankind is naturally social, and though Robinson
-Crusoe and his island were very interesting, we do not envy him the
-experience, and demand at least a few congenial neighbors within easy
-reach.
-
-[Illustration: HOMES AND OUT-BUILDINGS BY THE WAYSIDE]
-
-There is hardly any purely farming community in New England but that
-has decreased in population within the past fifty years. It has been
-the hill towns which have suffered most, but the valley towns have
-been affected as well. It has become the habit to account all country
-life dull, and the city’s superior liveliness, and the chances to earn
-ready money offered by stores and factories, draw away the life of even
-the most favored communities. New England is to-day much less a region
-of thrifty Yankee farmers than it is a land of busy manufacturing
-villages. Of these, enterprise and ingenious inventiveness are
-characteristic. They call to them a large foreign population which
-fills the monotonous rows of tenements in the neighborhood of the
-mills, or in the case of the more thrifty establishes itself in little
-separate family homes on the outskirts. The farming regions about
-naturally take to market gardening, and these places become the chief
-buyers of produce for the country miles about.
-
-Farming towns within easy distance of the railroads usually attain a
-fair prosperity, and energy and forethought give good returns for labor
-expended. The towns themselves with their elm-shadowed streets are
-neatly kept, and there is a certain pride taken in the good appearance
-of the homes half hidden in the drooping foliage. In the remoter towns
-are found thrifty dairy farms here and there, but the villages as a
-whole are inclined to look weatherworn and hopeless. Many of the houses
-have been strangers to fresh paint for a score of years or more; and
-others, though still inhabited, depress with their broken chimnies,
-leaky roofs, and decrepit out-buildings; while there are not wanting
-the homes altogether deserted, silent, broken-windowed, and sepulchral.
-Often these upland towns are nearly barren of well-grown trees which
-might add so much to their appearance, and the trees there are, look
-wind-blown and storm-beaten. This, with the thin, weedy grasses which
-grow on the opens before the churches, gives such places an accumulated
-forlornness.
-
-[Illustration: NEW ENGLAND ROCKS]
-
-It may be possible to find one of the outlying hamlets entirely
-deserted. There are little villages where you may find half a dozen
-or more forsaken homes, and no more than one or two still occupied;
-and the whole village and land is concentrated in one or two big
-farms,--big only in acres, however. There is slight attempt, as a
-rule, to keep up a thorough tillage. The best of the fields are gone
-over each year and a scanty harvest gleaned, and it may be questioned
-if equal labor on fewer acres would not produce greater results. The
-surplus buildings of the now depopulated village receive slight care,
-and time and decay deal hardly with them. The best of them serve as
-storage places for farm crops or tools. The more broken-down are levied
-upon occasionally for a few boards to mend a fence or a leak in one of
-the neighboring buildings, and so is hastened their time of complete
-ruin.
-
-[Illustration: HOLDING THE HORSES WHILE HIS FATHER GOES IN TO GET A
-DRINK OF WATER]
-
-Some places have won the favor of the summer visitors, and so have
-gained renewed prosperity. A few weeks’ sojourn far from the heat
-and noise of the city on these quiet, breezy hill-tops is no small
-pleasure, and many a person of means takes pride in the cottage home
-he has bought in some nook he thinks especially favored by nature,
-and looks forward all through the lengthening days of the spring to
-the time when he can unlock its door once more, wind the clock in the
-hall, and settle himself with his family for the yearly vacation. He
-finds not a little fussing and fixing to employ him about the place,
-and he saunters forth in his oldest suit, when the notion takes him, to
-talk with his neighbors the farmers. The chances are he gets off his
-coat and renews his youth by helping in the hay-field, and there, like
-enough, the rest of his flock hunt him out, and all have a triumphal
-ride on the loaded cart behind the slow-moving oxen to the barn.
-
-[Illustration: MAY]
-
-[Illustration: A DAM ON THE CONNECTICUT]
-
-[Illustration: AT THE RAILROAD STATION]
-
-When the summer visitor came up from the railroad station on the train,
-he noted the enticing look of the little streams in the hollows, and
-the tinkling murmur of the waterfalls sounded in his ear a call to get
-forth his fishing-rod. He was not long settled in his vacation home
-before the fishing-tackle was forthcoming, and he might be seen with
-vast caution and seriousness following up the neighboring brook through
-the tangled woods, and across the pastures among the rank-growing ferns
-and grasses, casting the fly and trailing it after the most approved
-fashion along the surface of the water, and perchance, if destiny
-favored, pulling forth at times a dainty little trout. The streams are
-so thoroughly fished that at finger-length, in the more accessible
-regions, the fish is esteemed a prize. Driving is always in order.
-There are glens, and waterfalls, and high hills with wonderfully far
-outlooks, and delightful winding valleys, to visit almost without
-number.
-
-[Illustration: A MANUFACTURING VILLAGE]
-
-On Sunday the summer visitor goes to the village church. Perhaps the
-services are not as brilliant as those to which he is used, but there
-is a comfortable simplicity to the place, the people, the sermon,
-and the singing which charms. The visitor is often a ready and valued
-helper in making the church and its belongings more attractive, and
-takes an interest in the schools and library and appearance of the
-town, which to many a place has been of great assistance. The vacation
-which includes, beside the ordinary out-door pleasuring, some of this
-sort of helpfulness gives a multiplied satisfaction at its close.
-
-[Illustration: THE RAILWAY-CROSSING IN THE VILLAGE]
-
-The country dwellers of New England are not to-day, in the mass, as
-strong charactered and vigorously intelligent as were those of the
-early part of the century. Those elements have found greater attraction
-and greater chance of reward elsewhere. It often happens that thrift
-seems to dwell rather with recent comers from across the water than
-with the older families. This is sometimes claimed to be because the
-first will live more meanly than the latter could bring themselves to.
-The truth is, the new-comers have no pride of family name to sustain,
-they know attainment rests only on hard work, and their secret of
-success lies more in their steady labor and good business habits than
-in any meanness of living. The scions of the old families are looser
-in their methods and more reckless and showy, and far less given to
-vigorous work. They may be heard to bewail over this foreign element as
-usurpers; but in reality comers of thrift and intelligence, whatever
-their former homes, are a help to the town life. Hard work, saving
-habits, and the aspiration to give the children of the family an
-education, has a healthful effect on character, and win oftentimes for
-those growing up in these homes culture and practical ability equalling
-the best of that of the older families. If a foreign family takes up
-with some little house on the outskirts, it may live very shabbily for
-the first few years. But the land about is gradually brought under full
-and thrifty tillage, little sheds begin to spring up behind the house,
-by and by a barn is built, and then the house is made over and an L
-added, and the progress toward prosperity as presented to the eye is a
-thing to be admired. It is almost always the remnants of the worn-out
-Yankee families which come on the town, and not these foreigners.
-
-[Illustration: A STONE BRIDGE]
-
-“Yankee” has become almost a synonym for ingeniousness, thrift, and
-“cuteness.” You can’t scare him; get him in a tight place and he will
-find a way out; set him a task and he will find some way to do it in
-half the time you expected; make him the butt of a joke and he will
-get even with you and pay heavy interest; no matter what part of the
-earth you transplant him to or the conditions you surround him with,
-he accommodates himself to the new circumstances, and proceeds with
-alacrity to financially profit by them. He is a born arguer, and a born
-pedler, and a born whittler, a Jack-at-all-trades and good at them all.
-
-[Illustration: A GROUP OF LITTLE FISHERMEN]
-
-This, it may be, is the typical Yankee, and without a doubt such can
-be found; but not every inhabitant of New England is made that way.
-Yankees are of all kinds, and the abilities, virtues, and short-comings
-are much mixed in the parcelling out. The Yankee is a man of opinions,
-and shows great readiness to impart them to others; but the depth
-or shallowness of these depends on the man. He is inclined to slow
-speaking and nasal tones, and when a question is asked has a way of
-turning it over in his mind once or twice before he gives answer,
-often improving the interval to spit seriously and meditatively. In
-bargaining, whatever the amount involved, he is given to dickering,
-crying down, or upholding the price, according as he is buyer or
-seller. The thrifty man is sometimes simply the man of push and
-ability, sometimes the miserly man who drives sharp bargains and
-forecloses mortgages when his poor neighbors are in trouble, and sells
-hard cider to the drinkers; or he may be one of high standing in church
-and community, who, though stickling for fairness, is sure to buy low
-and sell high; who is up at sunrise in summer and long before daylight
-in winter; who makes long days and fills them with hard work, and is
-esteemed a hard master by sons and hired men; who lives frugally, and
-when it comes to spending, as the saying goes, “squeezes the dollar
-until the eagle squeals.”
-
-[Illustration: A WAYSIDE WATERING-TROUGH]
-
-[Illustration: A COUNTRY SCHOOL WATCHING A TEAM GO BY]
-
-As a rule New England country people save nothing above expenses, and
-even then, spending all they earn, can have few more than the most
-common comforts of life, and rarely a luxury. Circumstance or some
-untoward accident of fate may bring this result, but an unstriving
-lack of thrift is more frequently the cause. Those of this class have
-a way of being always a little behind in what they do, and there is a
-dragging want of vitality in what they attempt. They are a little late
-in planting, a little late in harvesting. They never get full crops,
-and fall below the best always in quality, and are apt to suffer loss
-through frost or foul weather. “The stitch in time which saves nine”
-about their buildings they do not take, and these buildings lose boards
-here and there, and presently begin to sag and need a prop to keep
-them from coming down prone. So crops, and animals, and farm-tools are
-ill-protected, and there is increased loss.
-
-[Illustration: AN OLD BURYING-GROUND]
-
-As compared with the typical Southerner, the Yankee has less warmth
-of enthusiasm, less open-heartedness and chivalry, but he is steadier
-and has greater staying-power. The ne’er-do-well class of the North
-may wear their hearts on their sleeves and be as free as air in their
-kindliness and generosity; but Yankee thrift, however generous or
-philanthropic, is self-controlled and inclined to be reticent and
-politic. But though this may lessen the charm and poetry of it, there
-is no doubting its increased effectiveness.
-
-Thrift is apt to become with the well-to-do a sort of passion. The
-lack of it in a neighbor stirs continued and sarcastic criticism. On
-the other hand, thrift easily runs into closeness; but the worshipper
-of thrift is not mean and entirely selfish in this regard. It is a
-pleasure to him to see well-tilled fields, even if they belong to
-others, and he has the wish to make what attracts him general. The rich
-at their death often leave their fortunes in whole or in part to some
-charity or educational institution which will further a more general
-thrift.
-
-[Illustration: BELOW THE DAM]
-
-In stories of New England village-life we find a curious dialect used
-by the characters. Quaintness and uncouthness are both prominent.
-To one thoroughly acquainted with its people these stories savor of
-exaggeration and caricature. Ignorance everywhere uses bad grammar,
-whether in town or country, New England or elsewhere. Isolation tends
-also to careless speech. But the New Englander has not either, as
-a rule, to so marked a degree as to make him the odd specimen of
-humanity pictured in books. Life in the small villages and on the
-outlying farms does not present very numerous social advantages, and
-the result is a necessity for depending on one’s own resources. This,
-with those possessed of some mental vigor, develops individuality of
-thought and stable and forceful character. In the towns it requires the
-consultation and help of about half a dozen friends for a young person
-to accomplish any given object, great or small. On the farm, where
-neighbors are few, the boy or girl does his or her own thinking and
-working. Such have more pith and point to their brain movement, and in
-after life under as favoring circumstances will accomplish more.
-
-[Illustration: A MASSACHUSETTS MOUNTAIN]
-
-[Illustration: THE FERRYBOAT]
-
-Individuality expresses itself in manner and speech as well as thought,
-and odd ways and queer ideas and peculiar observations are to be met
-with very commonly in the New England country. The heavy work brings
-a certain amount of clumsiness with the strength. The rough clothes
-usually worn, and the slight care given them, often make an individual
-grotesque, and the majority of the workers attain to the picturesque
-in their costumes with their variety of patched and faded oldness. A
-peculiarity of recent years has come with the fashion of derby hats.
-There is a naturalness about an old slouch hat, however ancient,
-stained, and misshapen. If it does not grow old gracefully, it at least
-does so logically and without reminding the beholder of a more exalted
-past. But the battered and leaky derby retains to the last a stiff look
-of aristocracy which ill fits its dilapidated seediness.
-
-[Illustration: A FALL ON THE CONNECTICUT]
-
-[Illustration: JUNE]
-
-But whether a man is uncouth or not depends on other things than
-his occupation. Neatness is a growth from within rather than from
-without, and though no sensible farmer works in his Sunday clothes
-on week-days, there are many by whom you are agreeably impressed,
-no matter where you meet them. A look from the car window on a rainy
-day, as you pause at the villages on your route, reveals a curious
-motley group hanging about the platform. The depot is a favorite resort
-on stormy days when work is slack on the farm; but loafing is not
-characteristic of the best of the community, and it is hardly fair to
-judge all by the specimens who here present themselves.
-
-[Illustration: THE GROWING BOY IN HIS LAST YEAR’S CLOTHES]
-
-[Illustration: AT THE BACK-DOOR]
-
-Indoors, where presides the housewife, we expect to find neatness in
-supreme rule, for the New England woman has in that a wide repute.
-It is to be doubted if the old-time shining and spotless interiors
-which the grandmothers tell about are as universal now as formerly.
-But house-cleanings come with great regularity in most families, and
-the consumption of brooms and scrubbing-brushes in New England is
-something enormous. With the advent of wall-paper and carpets and the
-great variety of furniture and knick-knacks now within reach, has come
-a discontent with the old simplicity, and the changes are often not
-pleasing. Taste runs too much in wall-paper and carpets to dark colors
-and pronounced patterns, and the rooms appear boxy. If much money
-is spent on furniture it is apt to be spent on style rather than on
-substantial and quiet comfort. The pictures on the walls are usually a
-queer collection, from--it would be hard to imagine where; of colored
-prints, engravings cut from newspapers, and photographs of deceased
-members of the family. The science of house decoration is something
-very modern, and it will take time to learn how to do it simply and
-harmoniously.
-
-[Illustration: THE ACADEMY]
-
-Life’s currents pursue a tangled course, and while we catch many
-strains of harmony, there are discordant notes of which we rarely get
-entirely out of hearing. New England is not perfect, but once to have
-known is always to love it, no matter how far one wanders or how fair
-new regions open before one’s eyes. Its changing seasons, its rugged
-hills and tumbling streams, its winding roadways, its villages and
-little farms, cling in the memory and sing siren songs of enticement.
-Nature is sometimes harsh, but she has many moods, and nowhere more
-than here; and if harsh sometimes, she is at other times exceeding
-sweet. In cold or heat, storm or sunshine, New England’s rough fields
-are still the true Arcadia to her sons and daughters.
-
-
-
-
-PART III
-
-NEW ENGLAND AS THE TRAVELLER SEES IT
-
-
-[Illustration: A HORSE-CHESTNUT MAN]
-
-To really see and know New England one must leave the railroads and
-take time for a long tramp or drive. Railroads are only intended to
-link together the cities and larger towns, and they seek the level
-and monotonous for their routes, and pursue always as straight and
-prosaic a course as circumstances will admit. The view from the
-windows of ragged banks of earth or rock, where a path has been cut
-through a hill, or of the sandy embankments, where a hollow has been
-filled, and of pastures, swamps, and stumpy, brushy acres, where the
-timber has lately been cut off, are often dismal. At the same time the
-real country as seen from the winding, irregular roadways that link
-the villages and scattered farms together may be quite cheerful and
-pleasing.
-
-[Illustration: AFTERGLOW]
-
-With the purpose of seeing the real New England in its highways and
-byways, its hills and valleys, its nooks and corners, I started out
-one autumn day on a buckboard. I had a little bay horse, fat and
-good-natured, quite content to stop as often and long as I chose, and
-to busy herself nibbling the grass and bushes by the roadside, while
-I sketched or photographed. She had a decided disinclination for fast
-travelling, and wanted to walk as soon as a hill came in sight. But
-I wished to go slowly in the main, and we got along very agreeably,
-though at times I fear my remarks and hints to the creature between the
-shafts were not complimentary or pleasing to that animal. Houses where
-one could get a lunch at noon were not always handy, and I took the
-precaution to carry along some eatables for myself and a few feeds of
-oats for the horse.
-
-[Illustration: THE VILLAGE CHURCH]
-
-It was nine o’clock when I left Old Hadley in Central Massachusetts and
-turned northward up the valley. A cold wind was blowing, and many gray
-cloud-masses were sailing overhead. The region about was one of the
-fairest in New England,--a wide, fertile valley basin stretching twenty
-miles in either direction. The Connecticut River loops through it with
-many graceful curves, and blue ranges of hills bound it on every side.
-At intervals of about ten miles on this level you come upon the few
-scores of houses, which cluster about the churches at the centre of the
-towns, and there are many little hamlets where are lesser groups of
-homes.
-
-[Illustration: ONE OF THE HUMBLER HOUSES]
-
-I was jogging across some meadows, when I came to a few houses flanked
-by numerous out-buildings and half hidden by the trees about them. Some
-children were by the roadside. They had rakes and a big basket, and
-were intent on gathering the maple leaves which carpeted the ground.
-They stopped to watch me as I approached.
-
-“Take my picture,” cried a stout little girl, and then threw the basket
-over her head and struck an attitude.
-
-“All right,” was my reply.
-
-“Oh!” she said, “I want my cat in,” and raced off to the house to
-secure it.
-
-[Illustration: A DESERTED HOME]
-
-She was no sooner back and in position than she found a new trouble.
-She had on a little cap with a very narrow visor, and as the sun had
-now come out, its bright light made her eyes wink. Suddenly she spoke
-up and said the little cap made her cry, and wanted to get a hat, if I
-would let her. When she returned I made haste to snap the camera before
-any other ideas could occur to her. We were pretty well acquainted by
-the time I finished, and she wanted to know how much I charged for my
-picture, and said she guessed she would get one if I came that way
-again.
-
-The town of Sunderland lay a little beyond. It is a typical valley
-town, with a long, wide street lined by elms and maples, thickset on
-either side by the white houses of its people. Everything looked
-thrifty and well kept. The wind blew gustily, and sometimes would start
-the leaves which had just begun to strew the ground beneath and send
-windrows of them scurrying along the road like live armies on a charge.
-
-[Illustration: GETTING A LOAD OF SAWDUST BACK OF THE SAW-MILL]
-
-I was in the village in the late afternoon, when school let out. It
-was interesting to note the way the boys came down the street slamming
-about, shouting, and tripping each other up. It seemed to me there was
-one sort of youngster who had need to reform. You find this variety
-in every village where half a dozen boys can get together. He talks
-in a loud voice when any witnesses or a stranger is about, is rude to
-his fellows, jostles them and orders them about, cracks crude jokes,
-either exceedingly pointless, or else of great age and worn threadbare,
-at which he himself has to do a good share of the laughing. He is, in
-short, showing off, and the show is a very poor one. He makes himself
-both disagreeable and ridiculous to most, and can only win admiration
-from a few weak-minded companions or overawed small boys. He is apt to
-grow into something of a bully among those weaker than himself, and to
-become, when older, a young man with a swagger.
-
-[Illustration: A MEADOW STREAM]
-
-It was October, the days were short, and I had early to seek a
-stopping-place for the night. It still lacked something of supper-time
-when I put my horse out at one of the farm-houses, and I took the
-opportunity for a walk on the village street. The damp gloom of evening
-had settled down. There were lights in the windows and movements at the
-barns, and a team or two was jogging homeward along the road. Westward,
-in plain sight across the river, was the heavy spur of a mountain,
-dark against the evening sky. A single little light was trembling
-on the summit of the crag. This came from a building known as “the
-prospect house.” The proprietor lives there the year around, and from
-Sunderland’s snug street, on cold winter nights, the light is still to
-be seen sending out shivering rays into the frosty darkness.
-
-[Illustration: A HOME UNDER THE ELMS]
-
-I returned presently to the house and had supper. That finished, the
-small boy of the family brought a cup of boiled chestnuts, and while we
-munched them, explained how he had picked up eighty-one quarts of nuts
-so far that year. In his pocket the boy had other treasures. He pulled
-forth a handful of horse-chestnuts, and told me they grew on a little
-tree down by the burying-ground.
-
-“The boys up at our school make men of ’em,” he said. “They take
-one chestnut and cut a face on it like you do on a pumpkin for a
-jack-o’-lantern. That’s the head. Then they take a bigger one and cut
-two or three places in front for buttons, and make holes to stick in
-toothpicks for legs, and they stick in more for arms, and with a little
-short piece fasten the head on the body. Then they put ’em up on the
-stove-pipe where the teacher can’t get ’em, and they stay there all
-day. Sometimes they make caps for ’em.” He got out his jack-knife and
-spent the rest of the evening manufacturing these queer little men for
-my benefit.
-
-[Illustration: A DOOR-STEP GROUP]
-
-The next morning I turned eastward and went along the quiet, pleasant
-roads, now in the woods, now among pastures where the wayside had grown
-up to an everchanging hedge of bushes and trees. Much of the way was
-uphill, and I sometimes came out on open slopes which gave far-away
-glimpses over the valley I had left behind.
-
-About noon I stopped to sketch one of the picturesque watering-troughs
-of the region. There was a house close by, and a motherly looking old
-lady peeked out at me from the door to discover what I was up to. I
-asked if I might stay to dinner. She said I might if I would be content
-with their fare, and I drove around to the barn. An old gentleman and
-his hired man were pounding and prying at a big rock which protruded
-above the surface right before the wagon-shed. They had blasted it,
-and were now getting out the fragments. By the time I had my horse put
-out, dinner was ready, and we all went into the house. We had “a boiled
-dinner,”--potatoes, fat pork, cabbage, beets, and squash all cooked
-together. The dish was new to me, but I found it quite eatable.
-
-I was again on the road, jogging comfortably along, when I noticed
-two little people coming across a field close by. They walked hand
-in hand, and each carried a tin pail of apples. The boy was a stout
-little fellow, and the girl, a few sizes smaller, very fat and pudgy
-and much bundled up. I told them I’d like to take their pictures. They
-didn’t know what to make of that; but I got to work, and they stood
-by the fence looking at me very seriously. I was nearly ready when a
-woman from the doorway of a house a little ways back called out, “Go
-right along, Georgie! Don’t stop!” I told her I wanted to make their
-photographs--it wouldn’t take but a minute. She said they ought to be
-dressed up more for that. But I said they looked very nice as they
-were, and hastened to get my picture. Then the two went toddling on.
-The boy told me there was a big pile of apples back there; also, as I
-was starting away, that his father had just bought a horse.
-
-[Illustration: A ROADSIDE FRIEND]
-
-I took the sandy long hill way toward Shutesbury, a place famous for
-miles about for its huckleberry crops. It is jokingly said that this
-is its chief source of wealth, and the story goes that “One year the
-huckleberry crop failed up in Shutesbury, and the people had nothin’ to
-live on and were all comin’ on to the town, and the selectmen were so
-scared at the responsibility, they all run away.”
-
-The scattered houses began to dot the way as I proceeded, and after a
-time I saw the landmarks of the town centre--the two churches, perched
-on the highest, barest hilltop eastward. The sun was getting low,
-and chilly evening was settling down. Children were coming home from
-school; men, who had been away, were returning to do up their work
-about the house and barn before supper, and a boy was driving his
-cows down the street. I hurried on over the hill and trotted briskly
-down into the valley beyond, but it was not long before the road again
-turned upward. The woods were all about. In the pine groves, which grew
-in patches along the way, the ground was carpeted with needles, and the
-wheels and horse’s hoofs became almost noiseless. There were openings
-now and then through the trunks and leafage, and I could look far
-away to the north-east, and see across a wide valley the tree-covered
-ridges patched with evergreens, and the ruddy oak foliage rolling
-away into ranges of distant blue, and, beyond all, Mount Monadnock’s
-heavy pyramid. The sun was behind the hill I was climbing, and threw a
-massive purple shadow over the valley. Beyond, the ridges were flooded
-with clear autumn sunlight. Far off could be seen houses, and a church
-now and then--bits of white, toy-like, in the distance. The eastward
-shadows lengthened, the light in the woods grew cooler and grayer, and
-just as I was fearing darkness would close down on me in the woods, I
-turned a corner and the hill was at an end. There were houses close
-ahead, and off to the left two church steeples.
-
-[Illustration: BETTER THAN HOEING ON A HOT DAY]
-
-This was New Salem. The place had no tavern, but I was directed to one
-of the farm-houses which was in the habit of keeping “transients.”
-There was only a boy at home. His folks were away, and he had built
-a fire in the kitchen and was fussing around, keeping an eye on the
-window in expectation of the coming of the home team. It arrived soon
-after, and in came his mother and sister, who had been to one of the
-valley towns trading and visiting. The father was over at “the other
-farm,” but he came in a little later. Mrs. Cogswell told of the day’s
-happenings, and how she had found a knife by the roadside. It was
-“kind of stuck up,” and she said she would bet some old tobacco-chewer
-owned it. However, Mr. Cogswell, having smelt of it, guessed not.
-
-[Illustration: JULY]
-
-His wife now brought in a blanket she had bought at the “Boston Store,”
-and we all examined it, felt of it, and guessed what it was worth.
-Then she told what she paid, and how cheap she could get various other
-things, and what apples would bring.
-
-[Illustration: THE PET OF THE FARM]
-
-As we sat chatting after supper, Mr. Cogswell took out his watch and
-began to wind it. It was of the Waterbury variety, and winding took a
-long time, and gave him a chance to discourse of watches in general,
-and of this kind in particular. Frank had such a watch, he said, and he
-took it to pieces and it was about all spring.
-
-“You never saw such a thing,” said Mrs. Cogswell. “Why, it sprung out
-as long as this table.”
-
-“Ho, as long as this table!” said Mr. Cogswell; “it would reach ’way
-across the room.” He said his own watch kept very good time as a
-general thing, only it needed winding twice a day.
-
-[Illustration: A RAINY DAY]
-
-I was out early the next morning. The east still held some soft rose
-tints, streaks of fog lingered in the valley, and the frost still
-whitened the grass. After breakfast I went northward, down through the
-woods and pastures, into Miller’s valley. I followed a winding ravine
-in which a mountain brook went roaring over its uneven bed toward the
-lowland. I came into the open again at the little village of Wendell
-Depot. It was a barren little clearing, I found, wooded hills all
-about, a railroad running through, several bridges, and a dam with its
-rush and roar of water; a broad pond lay above, and below, the water
-foamed and struggled and slid away beneath the arches of a mossy stone
-bridge, and hurried on to pursue its winding way to the Connecticut.
-There was a wooden mill by the stream-side. It was a big, square
-structure with dirty walls and staring rows of windows. No trees were
-about, only the ruins of a burned paper-mill, whose sentinel chimney
-still stood, a blackened monument of the fire. There were a few of the
-plain houses built by the mill for its help, a hotel, some sand-banks,
-a foreign population, a dark, hurrying river, the roar of a dam, long
-lines of freight-cars moving through, and grim hills reaching away
-toward the sky.
-
-From here I went westward, and in the early afternoon crossed
-the Connecticut River and began to follow up the valley of the
-Deerfield. I had to go over a big mountain ridge, but after that had
-comparatively level travelling. I went on till long after sunset, and
-presently inquired of a man I met walking if there were houses on
-ahead. He said Solomon Hobbs owned the nearest place, and lived up a
-big hill a ways off the main road. A little after I met a team, and
-concluded to make more definite inquiry. “Can you tell me where Mr.
-Hobbs lives?” I asked.
-
-“Who, John?” he questioned as he pulled in his horse.
-
-“No, Solomon,” I replied.
-
-“Oh, er, Solly! He lives right up the hill here. Turn off the next road
-and go to the first house.”
-
-[Illustration: A HAMLET AMONG THE HILLS]
-
-It was quite dark now, and when I came to the steep, rough rise of the
-hill I got out and walked and led the horse. In time I saw a light on
-ahead, and I drove into the steep yard. I had my doubts about stopping
-there when I saw how small the house and barn were. A man responded to
-my knock on the door and acknowledged to the name of Solomon Hobbs. He
-was a tall, broad-shouldered, long-bearded farmer, apparently about
-fifty years of age. He had on heavy boots and was in his checked
-shirt-sleeves. He didn’t know about keeping me overnight, but their
-supper was just ready, and I might stay to that if I wanted to. He
-directed me to hitch my horse to a post of the piazza and come in. On
-a low table was spread a scanty meal. Codfish was the most prominent
-dish on the board. After eating, I was ushered into the little parlor,
-for they had certain pictures of the scenery thereabout they wished
-me to see. Mr. Hobbs brought along his lantern and set it on the
-mantel-piece. It remained there though Mrs. Hobbs came in and lit a
-gaudy hanging-lamp. She was a straight little woman with short hair,
-rather curly and brushed up, wore earrings, did not speak readily, and
-acted as if her head did not work first-rate. The little boy, who was
-the third member of the family, came in also. There was an iron, open
-fireplace with charred sticks, ashes, and rubbish in it. The carpet on
-the floor seemed not to be tacked down, and it gathered itself up in
-bunches and folds. The sofa and marble-topped centre-table and many of
-the chairs were filled with papers, books, boxes, and odds and ends.
-
-[Illustration: SUMMER SUNLIGHT IN A “GORGE ROAD”]
-
-There was some doubt as to where the pictures were, and it required
-considerable hunting in books and albums and cupboards and boxes and
-top-shelves to produce them. I did not notice that they put up any of
-the things they pulled down. Mr. Hobbs said of his wife that she had
-been in poor health for a year past, and hadn’t been able to keep
-things in order. When I had examined the pictures I got ready to start
-on. Mr. Hobbs said there was a hotel a mile up the road. I unhitched my
-horse, and the little boy, with a lantern, ran before me and guided me
-through the gateway.
-
-[Illustration: ONE OF THE LITTLE RIVERS]
-
-At the hotel, when I had made the horse comfortable in the barn I
-betook myself to the bar-room, where a brisk open fire was burning. A
-number of men were loafing there, most of them smoking. One was a tall,
-stout-figured man who was always ready to back his opinion with a bet
-of a certain number of dollars, and quoted knowledge gained a year when
-he was selectman to prove statements about the worth of farms.
-
-The proprietor of the place was a young man, with small eyes rather red
-with smoke or something else, a prominent beaklike nose, a mustache,
-and receding chin. He had an old, straight, short coat on, and he had
-thin legs, and looked very much like some sort of a large bird. He had
-a very sure way of speaking, and emphasized this sureness by the manner
-in which he would withdraw his cigar, half close his little eyes, and
-puff forth a thin stream of tobacco smoke.
-
-In the morning I was out just as the sun looked over some cloud
-layers at the eastern horizon and brightened up the misty landscape.
-I left the hotel, and soon was on my way up the Deerfield River into
-the mountains. It was a fine day, clear at first, and with many gray
-clouds sailing later. I jogged on up and down the little hills on the
-road which kept along the winding course of the river. All the way
-was hemmed in by great wooded ridges which kept falling behind, their
-places to be filled by new ones at every turn. The stream made its
-noisy way over its rough bed, and every now and then a freight train
-would go panting up the grade toward the Hoosac Tunnel, or a passenger
-train in swifter flight would sweep around the curve and hurry away to
-the world beyond.
-
-[Illustration: THE VILLAGE GROCERYMAN]
-
-A little off the road in one place was a log house, a sight so unusual
-in old Massachusetts that such rare ones as one may come across
-always have a special air of romance and interest about them. This
-had a pleasant situation on a level, scooped out by nature from the
-lofty ridge which over-shadowed it. It was made of straight, small
-logs, laid up cob-fashion, chinked with pieces of boards and made
-snugger with plaster on the inside. It had a steep roof of overlapping
-boards, through which a length of rusty stove-pipe reached upwards
-and smoked furiously. There was a spring before the door, which sent
-quite a little stream of water through a V-shaped trough into an
-old flour-barrel. There were some straggling apple-trees about, and
-behind the house a little slab barn. Inside was a bare room, floored
-with unplaned boards. There was a bed in one corner, a pine table in
-another, and a rude ladder led to a hole in the upper flooring, where
-was a second room. The only occupant then about was cooking dinner on
-the rusty stove. Light found its way through two square windows and
-through certain cracks and crevices in the wall.
-
-I followed the rapid river, on, up among the wild tumble of mountains
-which raised their gloomy rock-ribbed forms on every side. The regions
-seemed made by Titans, and for the home of rude giants, not of men.
-Presently a meadow opened before me, and across it lay the little
-village of Hoosac. The great hills swept up skyward from the level,
-and here and there in the cleared places you could see bits of houses
-perched on the dizzy slope, and seeming as if they might get loose and
-come sliding down into the valley almost any day.
-
-[Illustration: AN OUTLYING VILLAGE]
-
-At the tunnel was a high railroad bridge spanning the river, a long
-freight train waiting, a round signal station, a few houses, and the
-lines of iron rails running into the gloomy aperture in the side of
-the hill. This was in a sort of ravine, and so somewhat secluded and
-holding little suggestion of its enormous length of over four miles.
-Some sheep were feeding on a grassy hillside just across the track, and
-looking back upon them they made a very pretty contrast to the wild
-scenery. The hills mounded up all about; the sun in the west silvered
-the water of the rapid river; a train waiting below the iron span of
-the bridge sent up its wavering white plume of smoke; and here on the
-near grassy slope were the sheep quietly feeding.
-
-The road wound on through the same romantic wildness; now a mountain
-would shoot up a peak steeper and higher than those surrounding; but
-none of them seemed to have names. As one of the inhabitants expressed
-it, “They are too common round here to make any fuss over.”
-
-[Illustration: A VILLAGE VIEW IN A HALF-WOODED DELL]
-
-In the late afternoon, after a hard climb up the long hills, I passed
-Monroe Bridge, where in the deep ravine was a large paper-mill. The
-road beyond was muddy and badly cut up by teams, and progress was slow.
-I expected to spend the night at Monroe Church, which I understood
-was three miles farther up, but I got off the direct route and on to
-one of the side roads. The sun had disappeared behind the hills and a
-gray gloom was settling down. The road kept getting worse. It was full
-of ruts and bog-holes. Like most of the roads of the region, the way
-followed up a hollow, and had a brook by its side choked up with great
-boulders. I came upon bits of snow, and thought there were places where
-I could scrape up a very respectable snowball.
-
-[Illustration: THE OLD WELL-SWEEP]
-
-After a time I met a team and stopped to inquire the way to the church,
-and the distance. The fellow hailed had a grocery wagon, and no doubt
-had been delivering goods. He seemed greatly pleased by my question; in
-fact, was not a little overcome, showed a white row of teeth beneath
-his mustache, and he quite doubled up in his amusement. He said he did
-not know where the church was; and he guessed I wasn’t much acquainted
-up in these parts; said he wasn’t either. He stopped to laugh between
-every sentence. He apparently thought he was the only man from the
-outside world who ever visited these regions, and now was tickled to
-death to find another fellow had blundered into his district. There was
-no church about there, he said; I must be pretty badly mixed up; this
-was South Readsboro’, Vermont. “This is the end of the earth,” he said.
-He kept on laughing as he contemplated me, and I got away up the road
-as soon as I could, while he, still chuckling to himself, drove down.
-
-The snow patches become larger and more numerous, and soon I came into
-an open and saw a village up the hill. This was October, and the sight
-ahead was strange and weird. The roofs of the buildings were white with
-snow; there were scattered patches of it all about, and a high pasture
-southward was completely covered. It seemed as if I had left realities
-behind; as if in some way I was an explorer in the regions of the far
-north; as if here was a little town taken complete possession of by the
-frost; as if no life could remain, and I would find the houses deserted
-or the inhabitants all frozen and dead. There was a little saw-mill
-here and some big piles of boards; everywhere marks of former life; but
-the premature frost seemed to have settled down like a shroud on all
-about. I entered the village and found a man working beside a house,
-and learned from him that I had still three miles to travel before I
-came to the church.
-
-[Illustration: IN HAYING TIME]
-
-I took a steep southward road and led the horse, with frequent rests,
-up the hills. Darkness had been fast gathering, the sunset colors had
-faded, one bright star glowed in the west, and at its right a gloomy
-cloud mass reached up from the horizon. The neighboring fields got
-more and more snow-covered, until the black ribbon of the muddy road
-was about the only thing which marred their whiteness. There were
-rocky pastures about, intermitting with patches of woodland. Here and
-there were stiff dark lines of spruce along the hilltops, and these,
-with the white pastures, made the country seem like a bit of Norway.
-Snow clung to the evergreen arms of the spruces and whitened the upper
-fence-rails, and the muddy trail of the road ceased in the crisp
-whiteness.
-
-I was going through a piece of woods when I saw a house ahead with a
-glow of light in a window. I went past the friendly light. The dreary
-road still stretched on. No church was in sight, and I drew up and
-ran back to the house. A man came to the back door with a lamp. He
-said it was still two miles to the church, and I asked if I might stay
-overnight. Soon I had my horse in the yard and was comfortably settled
-by the kitchen fire. The kitchen was large, but the long table, the
-stove, a bed, and the other furniture made it rather cramped when the
-whole family were indoors. There were grandpa, and grandma, and “Hen”
-and his wife, and “Bucky,” and “Sherm,” and “Sis,” and Dan, and little
-Harry, not to mention a big dog and several cats. After supper, grandma
-fell to knitting with some yarn of her own spinning; grandpa smoked his
-pipe and told bear stories; “Hen” mended a broken ramrod so that his
-gun might be ready for a coon hunt he was planning; Mrs. “Hen” sewed;
-“Sherm” and “Bucky” were in a corner trying to swap hats, neckties,
-etc., and “Sis” was helping them; Dan ran some bullets which he made
-out of old lead-pipe melted in the kitchen fire; and Harry circulated
-all about, and put the cats through a hole cut for them in the cellar
-door, and climbed on the chairs along the walls, and picked away the
-plastering at sundry places where the lath was beginning to show
-through.
-
-[Illustration: THE STREAM AND THE ELMS IN THE MEADOW]
-
-Bedtime came at nine and I was given a little room partitioned off in
-the unfinished second story. In the first gray of the next morning a
-loud squawking commenced outside of so harsh and sudden a nature as to
-be quite alarming to the unaccustomed ear. Later I learned this was the
-flock of ducks and geese which had gathered about the house to give a
-morning salute. The wind was whistling about, and came in rather freely
-at the missing panes in my window. As soon as I heard movements below I
-hastened downstairs. The two fellows in the bed in the unfinished part
-adjoining my room were still snoozing, and there were scattered heaps
-of clothing about the floor.
-
-There was no one in the kitchen, and though the stove lid was off, no
-fire had yet been started. I heard old Mr. Yokes out in the back room.
-
-[Illustration: UNDER THE OLD SYCAMORE]
-
-“’Bout time ye was gettin’ up,” he called to me.
-
-“Yes,” I said, “I heard you stirring, and thought it must be about time
-to turn out.”
-
-“Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought ’twas one of the boys. They didn’t
-bring in no kindlings last night.”
-
-[Illustration: AUGUST]
-
-He sat down by the stove and went to whittling some shavings. He had
-not yet got on either shoes or stockings. One by one the rest of the
-family straggled in, and the fire began to glow and the heat to drive
-out the frostiness of the kitchen atmosphere. Outdoors the weather was
-threatening, and there were little drives of sleet borne down on the
-wings of the wind. After breakfast I concluded to leave this land of
-winter and followed down one of the steep roads into the autumn region
-of the Deerfield valley. By brisk travelling I succeeded by close of
-day in getting to the quiet meadows along the Connecticut. It had been
-a five days’ journey. I saw only a little patch of New England, and the
-description is necessarily fragmentary; but at least there is presented
-characteristic phases of its nature and life as the traveller on a
-leisurely journey may see them.
-
-[Illustration: ONE OF THE OLD VILLAGE STREETS]
-
-
-
-
-PART IV
-
-CAMPING AMONG THE NEW ENGLAND HILLS
-
-
-It was a warm night of midsummer. In a secluded hollow of the Green
-Mountain ranges of lower Vermont was pitched a small white tent. A
-half-moon was shining softly through the light cloud-hazes overhead,
-and had you been there, you could have made out the near surroundings
-without much difficulty. Tall woods were all about, but here was a
-little open where grasses and ferns and low bushes grew in abundance,
-and on a chance level of the steep, uneven hillside the campers had
-pitched their tent. In the deep, tree-filled ravine close below was
-a stream, whence came the sound of its fretting among the rocks, and
-from a little farther up the solemn pounding of a waterfall. From the
-other direction came a different sound. It was the gentle clinking of a
-hammer on an anvil. On the farther side of the narrow strip of woods,
-which shut it from sight, was a farmhouse, and it was thence came the
-sound of hammering.
-
-[Illustration: THE HOUSE WITH THE BARN ACROSS THE ROAD]
-
-[Illustration: A WARM SUMMER DAY]
-
-The tent has two occupants. They are both young fellows, who had on
-the day previous started from their Boston homes for a vacation trip
-to the woods. In the city they were clerks,--one in a store, the other
-in a bank. The chance that brought them to this particular spot for
-their vacation was this: a school friend of theirs, who was blessed (or
-perhaps otherwise) with more wealth than they, and who was next year to
-be a senior in Harvard, had informed them a few weeks previous that his
-folks were going to the Groveland House for the summer. This, he said,
-was in the centre of one of the prettiest and most delightful regions
-of all New England, and he urged his friends, Clayton and Holmes, to by
-all means go along too. He expatiated on the beauties of the place with
-such an eloquence (whether natural or acquired at Harvard, I know not)
-that these two gave up the idea of a trip they had been planning down
-the coast and turned their thoughts inland.
-
-But when they came to study the hotel circular that Alliston gave them,
-and noted the cost of board per week, this ardor received a dampener.
-
-“Phew!” said Holmes, “we can’t stand that. I don’t own our bank yet.”
-
-“No, we can’t, that’s a fact,” said Clayton. “I’d want more of a raise
-in my pay than I expect to get for years before I could afford that
-sum. The dickens! I thought these country places were cheap always--and
-here’s a little place we’ve never heard of that charges more than half
-our big hotels here in Boston.”
-
-[Illustration: AT WORK IN HER OWN STRAWBERRY PATCH]
-
-“Well, we’ve got to give up that idea, then,” Holmes said. “I suppose,
-though, we might find a place at some farmhouse that wouldn’t charge
-too high.”
-
-“The trouble is,” Clayton responded, “that I don’t like to go poking
-off into a region where we don’t know a soul, and take our chances of
-finding a comfortable stopping-place at the right price. Then, you
-see, it’s going to cost like anything getting there--just the fare on
-the railroad. I don’t know as we ought to have considered the thing at
-all.”
-
-[Illustration: SEPTEMBER]
-
-“I hate to give it up,” said Holmes. “We’ve seen a good deal of the
-shore, but have had hardly a sight of the country. It would be a great
-thing, for a change, to take that trip to Vermont. Now, why couldn’t we
-try camping out? That’s what the youngsters do in all the small boys’
-books I’ve ever read. We’re rather older than the boys who were in the
-habit of doing that sort of thing in the books. But then, you know,
-that may be a good thing. It may have given us a chance to accumulate
-wisdom sufficient to avoid those hairbreadth adventures the youngsters
-were always having. They are good enough to read about, but deliver me
-from the experience.”
-
-“Harry,” said Clayton, “I believe that’s a good idea.”
-
-[Illustration: EVENING]
-
-The conversation and thinkings necessary to settle the details were
-many and lengthy, and I forbear repeating them. The long and short of
-it is that on Monday, August 14, in the earliest gray of the morning,
-they were on the train that was to carry them to the Vermont paradise
-they had in mind.
-
-John Clayton, as luck would have it, worked in a dry-goods house, and
-therefore in planning a tent he was enabled to get the cloth for its
-makeup at a trifle above cost. He and Harry made numerous visits to the
-public library on spare evenings and consulted a variety of volumes
-devoted more or less directly to the science of camping out. The amount
-of information they got on the subject was rather bewildering, but they
-simplified it down to a few things absolutely necessary to think of
-beforehand, and concluded to trust to commonsense for solving further
-problems.
-
-“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” said Harry, who attended
-Sunday-school regularly.
-
-The cloth used for the tent was cotton drilling. John’s mother sewed
-the strips together under his direction, and their landlady allowed him
-to set it up in the little paved square of yard back of the block, and
-there he and Harry gave it a coat of paint to make it waterproof. The
-whole thing did not cost three dollars, and, as the boys said, “It’ll
-last us a good many seasons.” Aside from their tent they purchased a
-small hatchet, a ball of stout twine, a few nails, a lantern, and some
-tin pails, cups, and plates, and several knives, forks, and spoons.
-
-[Illustration: A LOAD OF WOOD ON THE WAY UP TO THE VILLAGE]
-
-It had been a question just where their camping-place should be. “We
-can’t very well pitch our tent in the hotel yard,” said Harry. “That
-high-priced proprietor wouldn’t allow it, I’m sure; and, besides, we
-shouldn’t want to.”
-
-Another perusal of the summering-place circular disclosed the fact that
-it gave a list of the attractions of the region about, with certain
-comments thereon. Among the rest was noted a waterfall seventy feet
-high. It was amid surroundings, so the circular said, exceedingly
-beautiful and romantic (whatever that may be). The boys thought that
-style of place would suit them to a T, and Harry, who carried the
-circular about in his pocket, got it out at the bank the next day after
-this decision was arrived at and underscored this waterfall with red
-ink.
-
-In the late afternoon of August 14th the two were set down, “bag and
-baggage,” at the forlorn little station which was the railroad terminus
-of their journey. To the left was a high sand bluff, half cut away,
-crowned with a group of tall pines. A little up the tracks was a deep,
-stony ravine where a little river sent up a low murmur from the depths.
-This was spanned by a high railroad trestle, and when the train rumbled
-away across it and disappeared around the curve of a wooded slope,
-the boys watched the curls of smoke fade into thin air and felt a bit
-homesick. Beyond was a small freight-house, but no other buildings
-were in sight. It was a little clearing in the midst of the woods. The
-only path leading away was the road, which made a turn about the near
-sand bluff, and then was lost to sight. At the rear of the depot was
-a smart stage-coach, into which a group of people were being helped by
-a slick footman. This coach was an attachment of the Groveland House.
-“Were the young gentlemen bound for the hotel?”
-
-“No,” said Clayton, “we’re not going to the hotel. Isn’t there any
-other coach?”
-
-“Oh, yes, but that leaves here at two o’clock. It has a long route
-through the different villages, over the hills, delivering the mail and
-other truck. If it waited for the four-thirty train it would hardly get
-around before midnight.”
-
-“We’re much obliged,” said Clayton, and the two went back to the front
-platform and sat down on their baggage.
-
-“We won’t go up to that hotel if we have to pitch our tent here on the
-sand back of the depot,” said John.
-
-[Illustration: A WATERFALL IN THE WOODS]
-
-They heard the coach rattle briskly away up the road, and the
-depot-master stamping around inside. He came out presently, and after
-locking the front door approached them. “Expectin’ some one to meet
-ye?” he asked. He was a stout figured man, with a smooth, round,
-good-natured face that won the boys’ confidence at once.
-
-“No,” John said, “we don’t know any one about here. We came on a little
-camping trip. You see in Boston there are horse-cars running every
-which way that take you anywhere you want to go, and I s’pose we’ve got
-so used to them that we never thought of having any trouble in getting
-to the place we wanted to go to, though this is out in the country.”
-
-“Oh, ye came from Boston, did ye? I kinder thought ye was city fellers.
-Guess ye’ll find horse-cars in these parts about as scarce as hen’s
-teeth--just about. Whare was ye thinkin’ of goin’, anyhow?”
-
-“We were going to Rainbow Falls.”
-
-“Rainbow Falls? Well, now, you’ve got me. I do’no’ as I ever heared of
-’em. Where be they?”
-
-Harry whipped out his circular. “Why, here they are,” he said. “See!
-right here under this heading, ‘Nature’s Attractions in the Drives
-about Groveland,’” and he pointed to the line underscored with red ink.
-
-[Illustration: A PANORAMA HILLS AND VALLEYS]
-
-The station agent set down the two lanterns he had in his hand and drew
-a spectacle case from his vest pocket. “Sho,” said he, when he got his
-glasses adjusted, “‘Rainbow Falls,’ so ’tis. ‘Surroundings exceedingly
-beautiful and rheumatic’--er, no, it’s _ro_mantic it says, I guess; the
-letters is blotted a little. Seventy feet high, it says. Well, now, I
-don’t know what that is, unless it’s the falls over at Jones’ holler.
-The hotel folks have gone and put a new-fangled name onto it, I guess.
-There never’s been any ‘rainbow’ about it that I’ve ever heared of.”
-
-“Is it a good place to camp out, should you think?” asked John.
-
-“Well, yes; pretty good, if you like it,” was the reply. “Now, if you
-fellers want to get up there to-night, there’s some houses up the road
-here a few steps, and I presume ye can hire some one to get ya up there
-if ye want to.”
-
-[Illustration: A PASTURE GROUP]
-
-“How far is it?” Harry asked.
-
-“I should say it was five miles or something like that,” said the man;
-and he walked off down the track.
-
-“Now,” said John, “we must wake up. I see no signs of houses, but we’ll
-follow up the road.”
-
-The result was that a short walk brought them to a little group of
-habitations, and they accosted a farmer boy who was weeding in a garden
-and made known their wants. He would take them up, he said, if his
-folks would let him.
-
-“How much would you charge?” asked Harry.
-
-“Well, I do’no’,” said the boy. “It’s goin’ to be considerable trouble,
-and it’s a good five miles the shortest way, and hard travellin’, too,
-some of the way. I should think ’twould be worth thirty-five cents,
-anyhow.”
-
-“We’ll pay you fifty,” said John, “if you’ll hurry up with your team.”
-
-“I’ll have to ask ma first,” the boy replied.
-
-He went to the house, and the two outside heard a low-toned
-conversation, and a woman looked out at them from behind some
-half-closed blinds. Then out came Jimmy with a rush and said he could
-go. He took pains to get his hoe from the garden, which he cleaned by
-rubbing off the dirt with his bare foot before hanging it up.
-
-“Have ye got much luggage?” he asked. “’Cause if ye have we c’n take
-the rack wagon. The express wagon’s better, though, if ye haven’t got
-much. That old rack’s pretty heavy.”
-
-The lighter vehicle, which proved to be a small market wagon, was
-plenty large enough, and into that was hitched the stout farm-horse,
-and the three boys clambered up to the seat.
-
-“Git up!” cried Jimmy, cracking his whip, and away they rattled down to
-the depot.
-
-“Now,” said Jimmy, “they’s two ways of gettin’ where you want to go,
-and when you get there they’s two places where you can go to. The road
-over Haley’s Hill is the nearest, but it’s so darn steep I’d about as
-soon drive up the side of a meeting-house steeple.”
-
-“Then you’d rather go the other road, I suppose.”
-
-“Well, I do’no’; that’s considerable more roundabout.”
-
-“You can do as you please,” said John. “We’ll risk it, if you will.”
-
-“I guess I’ll go over Haley’s Hill, then. But I reckon you fellers’ll
-get shook up some. ’Tain’t much more’n a wood-road, and they’s washouts
-on the downhill parts and bog-holes where its level that they’ve dumped
-brush and stuff into. You’ll have to walk up the steep parts. Don’t you
-want something to eat?” he then asked. “I brought along a pocketful of
-gingerbread, ’cause I knew I shouldn’t get home till after dark. Here,”
-and he pulled out a handful of broken fragments, “better have some.”
-
-“Thank you,” said John; “but we had a rather late lunch on the cars,
-and I don’t think we’ll eat again till we get the tent pitched. What
-was it you said about there being two places up there we could go to?”
-
-The boy took a mouthful of gingerbread, and when he got the process of
-mastication well under way he responded, “Well, there’s Jules’, and
-there’s Whitcomb’s. Jules’ is on one side of the brook and Whitcomb’s
-is on the other. Jules is the Frenchman, ye know.”
-
-“Which place is best?”
-
-[Illustration: OCTOBER]
-
-“I do’no’ ’bout that. Whitcomb’s is the nearest.”
-
-“We’ll try the nearest place, I think.”
-
-“I guess we’d better tumble out now,” said the boy. “We’re gettin’ on
-to Haley’s Hill, and old Bill’s gettin’ kinder tuckered. Hold on! don’t
-jump out now. I’ll stop on the next thank-you-marm.”
-
-[Illustration: A PASTURE GATE]
-
-He pulled in his steed just as the wheels went over a slight ridge that
-ran across the road, and the three alighted. They were in the dusk of
-a tall wood of beech and birches that was almost gloomy, so thick were
-the trees and so shut out the light. The road increased in roughness
-and in steepness, and finally the boy at the horse’s head called out,
-“I say, I guess you fellers better push behind there. Bill can’t hardly
-move the thing, and he kinder acts as if he was goin’ to lay down.”
-
-The campers made haste to give their support, and the caravan went
-jolting and panting up the slope till the leader let fall the
-bridle-rein and announced: “There, we’re over the worst of it. Now, if
-I can find a good soft stone to set on we’ll rest a minute, and then
-we’ll fire ahead again, and I’ll get ye to Whitcomb’s in less’n no
-time.”
-
-Jimmy found a bowlder to his mind and began to draw on his stores of
-gingerbread again. The horse nibbled the bushes at the roadside. The
-campers took each a wagon wheel and leaned on that and waited.
-
-“I guess we might get in now,” said the boy, rising and brushing the
-crumbs off his overalls. “It’s pretty rough ahead, but they ain’t much
-that’s steep.”
-
-There were stones and bog-holes to jolt over, but after a little they
-came on to a more travelled way, and presently Jimmy drew in his horse
-and said, “This is Whitcomb’s house right here. That’s his dog at the
-gate barkin’ at us.”
-
-John went to the front door and rapped. He got no response, and
-concluded from the grasses and weeds that grew about and before it that
-front-door visiting was a rare thing at that house. A narrow, flagged
-walk ran past the corner to the rear. He followed it, and in an open
-doorway of the L found Mr. Whitcomb reading a paper.
-
-[Illustration: A ROAD BY THE STREAM]
-
-“A friend and myself would like to camp over in your pasture for a few
-days, if you don’t object,” said John.
-
-“All right, go ahead,” said the farmer. “If you behave yourselves,
-and put up the bars after ye so’t the cows won’t git out I ain’t no
-objections.”
-
-“Thank you,” said John. “We’ll try to do that. Have you milk to sell?
-We’d like to buy a couple of quarts or so a day.”
-
-The man turned his head toward the kitchen. “Ann,” he said, “how is
-that--can ye spare any?”
-
-A tall, thin-faced woman came to the door. She carried a baby in her
-arms. “I don’t think we have any milk to spare,” she replied. “We
-raise calves, because I ain’t well enough to tend to the milk and make
-butter, and they drink about all we have. And I have two children, and
-the oldest ain’t much more’n a baby, and they have to have some. We’d
-like to accommodate you, but I don’t see how we can.”
-
-“It’s all right,” John replied; “we will find some other place for our
-milk supply.”
-
-He returned to the team and they drove through a wide, rocky mowing lot
-till they came to a stone wall which was without a break, and entirely
-blocked the way. A pasture lay beyond.
-
-“The falls,” said Jimmy, “are right over in them woods t’other side of
-this pasture. If ’twasn’t for this pesky stone wall I’d drive right
-over there with ye. We’d ‘a’ done better to ‘a’ gone to Jules’. His
-place is only a little ways straight over here, but it’s a mile and
-more by the road.”
-
-“Well, we’ve travelled far enough for one day,” said Harry. “Let’s get
-our tent over into the pasture and pitch it there.”
-
-“Agreed,” said John. “The sky has been cloudy all the afternoon, and it
-looks more like rain than ever now. I shan’t feel easy till we get a
-roof over our heads.”
-
-They tumbled their bundles over the fence and made their driver happy
-with a half-dollar, with which he drove whistling away. He, however,
-informed them that “he guessed likely he’d get up to see ’em in a few
-days, if they didn’t get sick of camping before that and clear out.”
-
-[Illustration: AT THE PASTURE GATE]
-
-The campers dragged their bundles over to a low beech-tree a few rods
-distant, and beneath its spreading branches proceeded to erect their
-tent. Poles and pegs they cut in a thicket near by. Their chief trouble
-was the lack of a spade to make holes for the end poles in the hard
-earth. But they made the hatchet do the work, though the fine edge they
-had taken pains to put on it before leaving Boston disappeared in the
-process.
-
-After the tent was up they got their things into it and spread
-their bedding. The next thing was to hunt up a spring to serve as a
-water-supply.
-
-“You get out a lunch,” said John. “and I’ll fill this tin pail with
-water.”
-
-[Illustration: THE SHEEP PASTURE]
-
-That was easier said than done. He stumbled about in the dusk over the
-rough pasture-land with its tangle of ferns and hardhack bushes, and
-the best he could do was to get a couple of pints of fairly clean water
-from a rocky mud-hole. Afterward he scooped the hollow deeper with his
-hands, hoping it would soon fill with clear water.
-
-At the tent Harry had the lunch spread and had lit their lantern.
-
-“Do you know what time it is?” he asked. “It’s half-past eight. If we’d
-had any farther to go we’d have been in a fix. Is that all the water
-you could get? I’m dry as a desert.”
-
-“I’ll get more after supper,” said John. “I’ve tumbled half over the
-pasture and I can’t find anything but bog-holes.”
-
-[Illustration: A QUIET POND]
-
-After eating, both went out, Harry with the lantern, John with two
-pails. The clouds overhead had thinned and the stars twinkled through
-in places. The lantern with its two attendant figures went zigzagging
-over the lonely pasture waste to the water-hole. It had not yet
-cleared, but they skimmed off enough with a pail-cover to slake their
-thirst. They did not say much as they wended their way back to the
-tent, but both had the feeling that camping out was proving a rather
-severe experience of pioneering.
-
-“I’m dead tired,” said Harry, as he flung himself down on the bedding
-inside. “Let’s turn in for the night.”
-
-A few minutes later Farmer Whitcomb, glancing across the fields, saw
-the soft glow of the lantern through the canvas walls of the tent
-disappear, and remarked, “Well, they get to bed early for city folks,
-but I’ve always thought myself nine o’clock was about the right
-time.” He cleared his throat, looked up to the sky to get a hint of
-to-morrow’s weather prospects, and went in and locked the door. Soon
-his light, too, was out.
-
-The last sound the campers heard was the wind fluttering through the
-beech leaves in the tree above. It was a great change from the city
-noises and surroundings with which they were familiar.
-
-On the following morning the campers were out at sun-up. Harry went
-over to their particular mud-hole and succeeded in scooping up a
-pailful of water, but he had not gone five steps before his foot
-slipped on a dewy hummock and the pail went flying. He returned to the
-original source of water-supply, but there was no chance of getting
-more just then, and the result was he wended his way across the fields
-and filled his pail at the Whitcomb well-sweep.
-
-[Illustration: HUSKING-TIME]
-
-“It’s no use,” he said on his return, “we’ve got to get nearer water.
-If matters go on as they’ve begun we’ll waste half our vacation over
-this one thing.”
-
-“Well, we’ll look around after breakfast.” said John. “I’ve been trying
-to make a fire, but everything’s so soaked with dew you can’t make
-anything burn. I wonder if they always have such dews up here. It’s
-just as if we’d had a heavy rain. We’ll have to get in our firewood the
-night beforehand.”
-
-“It’s a cold bite again this morning, is it?” said Harry. “I tell you,
-we’ve got to study up this matter. We must reform some way. Why, we’re
-getting right down to barbarism. By the way, how d’you sleep last
-night?”
-
-“First-rate,” John replied; “don’t remember a thing, only I feel a
-little sore in spots this morning.”
-
-“That’s it,” said Harry; “same way with me. Feel’s if I’d had a good
-licking. Now, see here.” He rolled down the bedclothes and exposed the
-ground. “See those humps? There’s a stone sticking up. Here’s another.
-There’s a stub where some little tree has been cut off, and there are
-several sticks and natural hummocks of the earth thrown in besides.
-Why, the worst savage, unless he was drunk, would be ashamed to use
-such a bed.”
-
-“Well,” said John. “let us be thankful that we’ve come through the
-thrilling experiences that we have so far met with alive; to-day
-we’ll hustle around and find a new camping-ground, and in the future
-we’ll live in a style properly becoming to our dignity as members of
-Bostonian civilization, etc. But, come now, you’ve been regarding that
-bed of torture long enough. Trials past are only so many myths and
-shadows. At any rate, that’s what Solomon or some other wise fellow has
-said. What you want to do is to fortify yourself for trials to come.
-Supposing we go over and see this Jules after breakfast.”
-
-[Illustration: SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW]
-
-“I found out how to get there from our landlord when I went over for
-water,” said Harry. “There’s a side road that leads down to a little
-grist-mill just above here, and at the mill there’s a foot-bridge
-across the stream.”
-
-“Good!” said John; and after breakfast our campers went down to the
-mill, which, with the placid pond above, was completely closed in
-by the green masses of the forest. It was a gray little building,
-with mossy shingles, and broken windows and doors. There were boards
-missing here and there from its sides, and it was so old and rude it
-seemed a wonder it did not slide down the precipice it half overhung.
-It had not been used for some time--that was plain. Below it was a
-steep, irregular fall of rocks over which thin streams of water were
-tumbling. Across the ravine, at the summit of the cliff, was a low
-dam; but it leaked badly, and the water did not reach its top by some
-inches. Midway in the stream, at the dam, was a rocky island where grew
-a few stunted pines. A foot-bridge crossed to it from a lower door
-of the mill. Thus it was necessary to climb to the top of the island
-cliff, where another bridge swung high up over the narrow ravine to the
-farther shore.
-
-The boys poked about the mill and the pond for some time and then
-crossed the bridges. But they were no sooner across than John
-exclaimed, “How that thing did sway and crack! I’d walk ten miles
-before I’d cross that rotten plank again.”
-
-“So would I,” said Harry. “It fairly made my hair stand on end. A
-fellow wouldn’t be good for much after he’d tumbled down into a ravine
-as deep and rocky as that, I guess. The waterfall must be close by
-here. I can hear it. But let’s hunt up Jules first. His last name is La
-Fay, so Whitcomb said.”
-
-A faintly marked path led away through the woods, and the two followed
-it. Some distance beyond it opened into a highway. They saw no signs of
-habitations, but they followed the road until they met an ox-cart.
-
-“Can you tell us where Mr. La Fay lives?” asked John of the young man
-who was guiding the slow team.
-
-“Yes,” said he, “you take a narrer little road that turns off into
-the woods down here a piece. You don’t live round in these parts, do
-ye?”
-
-[Illustration: NOVEMBER]
-
-“No,” replied John.
-
-“I don’t belong around here either, and I’m mighty glad of it.”
-
-“Why, what’s the matter?” John asked.
-
-“It’s so darn lonesome. That’s what’s the matter. Nothin’ but woods,
-with now and then a farm kinder lost in it. Nothin’ goin’ on.
-Everything draggin’ along slow as this old ox-team. I’ve hired out to
-Deacon Hawes for the season, but I shan’t stay more’n my time out.
-You’re campin’ up round here, ain’t ye? Allen’s boy brought ye up last
-night, so I heard. Mebbe I’ll drop in and see ye this evenin’. We’ve
-got some sweet-corn just ripenin’ down at the place that might taste
-good to ye.”
-
-[Illustration: THE VILLAGE ON THE HILL]
-
-The campers told him they would be glad to see him, and said that they
-expected to be near La Fay’s, at the falls. They took the road he had
-indicated. It led through a dense young forest. The trees interwove
-their branches overhead so closely that the sunshine with difficulty
-penetrated the foliage to fleck the damp depths below with its patches
-of light. A short walk brought them out of the woods into a good-sized
-clearing sloping down into a wooded valley. Down the hill was a long,
-squarish house, one end entirely unfinished, and brown with age and
-decay. The rest had at some remote period been painted white. In front
-was a row of maples, beneath which a calf was tied. Opposite the house
-was a weatherworn barn, and behind it a small shed with a chimney at
-one end. The big barn-doors were open, and Mr. La Fay was just rolling
-out his hay-wagon. He was apparently about thirty-five years of age--a
-handsome, powerfully built man, square headed and strong jawed. He wore
-a mustache, had dark, curly hair, and a pair of clear, gray eyes, which
-looked straight at one and that held sparks which could easily flash
-into fire. The boys stated their errand, and La Fay told them to choose
-any place they pleased for their tent and go ahead. He could furnish
-them milk, and a horse occasionally if they wanted to drive.
-
-“You are close by the falls if you go over there beyond that piece of
-woods.” he said; “and from our hill here you can see half the world.”
-
-[Illustration: A MILL IN THE VALLEY]
-
-He took them out on the ridge beyond the barn. It was indeed a
-beautiful piece of country--mowing-lots and orchards and pastures
-close about, a broken valley far below, where a little stream here and
-there glinted in the sunshine, and, bounding the horizon, many great,
-forest-clad hills. Here and there were far-away glimpses of hilltop
-villages, of which La Fay gave them the names and the number of miles
-they were distant. The boys were delighted.
-
-[Illustration: CLOUD SHADOWS]
-
-“Now, the way for you fellows to manage,” said Mr. La Fay, “is either
-to take my horse and wagon for your traps, or, if you haven’t got too
-many, to lug them across the stream down here. You’ll find an old road
-and a ford that you can wade across a little below the falls, if you’re
-not afraid of getting your feet wet.”
-
-“We’ll try that way,” said John.
-
-A little yellow dog which had been smelling around now began barking
-over something he had found a few steps down the hill.
-
-“What’s he got now, I wonder,” said La Fay, going toward him.
-
-On the grass lay the remnants of a big turkey, about which the dog was
-sniffing excitedly.
-
-“That’s my gobbler,” said La Fay. “A fox must have got hold of him last
-night. See, back there where all those feathers are scattered about
-is where the fox jumped onto him. That’s where he’d squatted for the
-night. Well, I’ll have that fox one of these days. That little dog
-can’t be beat for tracking. He’s the best dog to start up partridges or
-hunt rabbits or anything of that sort you ever see.”
-
-The boys asked if they might borrow a spade, and while at the barn
-getting it a little girl came running out to them from the house. She
-was perhaps eight or nine years old, a stout, vigorous little person,
-resembling her father closely in features.
-
-“That’s the young one,” said La Fay. “Have you got the dishes washed,
-Birdie?”
-
-“Yes,” she replied, and then stood looking curiously at the strangers.
-
-“She does a good share of my housework for me,” La Fay went on. “I do
-the washing and the butter-making myself, and I get a woman to help
-once in a while in baking and mending. I can make as nice butter as
-any woman in this county. Look at my hands. They’re hard, but they’re
-smooth and clean. A farmer’s hands needn’t be rough and rusty if he’ll
-only use soap and water enough, and be particular about it. I work as
-hard on my farm as any man about here, and I’m often up half the night
-blacksmithing, but I don’t believe there’s a man in the town can show
-such hands as those.”
-
-He looked toward the girl once more and continued, “The young one’s
-mother ran away from her home two months ago. I never want to set eyes
-on her again. We didn’t get along over-well together, sometimes. She
-had a temper, and I had a temper. I tell you, I smoke, and I drink,
-and I swear like the Old Nick; but I don’t steal, and I don’t lie,
-and I don’t get drunk. Mary was like me, only there were times when
-she’d take too much drink. Then she’d flare up if I went to reasoning
-with her. The week before she left, she caught up a big meat knife
-she’d been using and flung it at me so savage that if I hadn’t dodged
-quicker’n lightning ’twould have clipped my head, sure. It stuck in
-the wall and the point broke off. Well, I must get to haying now; but
-come round to the house any time. If Birdie or myself ain’t there,
-you’ll find the key to the back door behind the blind of the window
-that’s right next to it. Go right in whenever you please. I know you
-fellows are honest. I know an honest man when I see him. I’d trust you
-with my pocketbook or anything. I don’t care what church you go to, or
-if you don’t go at all. I can tell what a man’s made of by his looks.
-There’s some folks that I wouldn’t want to be on the same side of the
-fence with. I tell you, money and policy count for a great deal in this
-world, I despise ’em.”
-
-[Illustration: A LOG HOUSE]
-
-He turned to the little girl and said, “Run in and get your hat Birdie,
-we must get in two or three loads before dinner, if we can.”
-
-The campers with their spade went through the strip of woods La Fay had
-indicated, and found a pretty bit of pasture beyond. The falls were in
-plain hearing in the ravine below, and they found a little level just
-suited for the tent, and not far away a fine spring of clear, cold
-water. Lastly, they noticed that one corner of the lot was a briery
-tangle of blackberry vines that hung heavy with ripe berries. This they
-thought an undoubted paradise--every delight at their tent door. First
-they ate their fill of berries, and then went down into the hollow. The
-bed of the stream was strewn with great bowlders. Around towered the
-full-leaved trees. A little above was the fall, making its long tumble
-down a narrow cleft of the rocky wall.
-
-[Illustration: AN EARLY SNOW]
-
-The boys made a crossing by jumping from rock to rock in the bed of
-the stream. Below, they found the ford and the old road, and went up
-the path and across the pasture to their tent. It was something of a
-task getting their traps over to the new camping-place, but by noon
-the white canvas was again in place and they had dinner. By aid of the
-spade they gave the end poles of the tent a firm setting, and they dug
-a trench on the uphill side of the camp to protect them from overflow
-in case of rain.
-
-[Illustration: ON A MOUNTAIN CRAG]
-
-I will not attempt to more than catalogue their doings for the next
-few days. That afternoon they took a long tramp to the village to lay
-in fresh food supplies. They returned at dusk, and found the young man
-whom they had met with the ox-team that morning, at the tent door with
-a bag of sweet-corn. He assisted them in making a fire, and they had a
-grand feast for supper. The next day, which was Wednesday, they took a
-long drive over the hills to points of interest that La Fay told them
-about. Thursday was reserved for a trouting expedition. Friday they
-drove over to the Groveland House to see their college friend, Alliston.
-
-“Well, fellows,” he said, “how do you like it?”
-
-“Splendid!” said the campers; “we’re having a grand, good time. How do
-you get along here?”
-
-[Illustration: ONE OF THE GREEN MOUNTAIN PEAKS]
-
-“It’s rather dull times, I think myself,” said Alliston. “We talk, and
-talk, and play tennis, and have a grand performance every day or two
-over a drive or a clambake. But half the time I think we’re making
-believe we’re having a good time rather than really having it. I have
-an idea, some way, that you fellows are getting the best of it.”
-
-[Illustration: AMONG THE BIG HILLS]
-
-Nearly every evening the campers had callers, and in their tramps and
-rides they made many interesting acquaintances. After lights were out
-they usually heard the sound of the hammer and the wheezing of the
-bellows up at La Fay’s little shop beyond the woods.
-
-Saturday morning came. The campers were still in bed, but they were
-awake. It had been a very hot night.
-
-“Poke your head out, will you, Harry, and see what the weather’s going
-to be,” said John.
-
-Harry loosed a tent flap and looked out. “The sun’s shining,” he said,
-“but the west is full of clouds and looks like a shower.”
-
-“Well, let’s not hurry about getting up. If we take the noon train for
-Boston we shan’t get home much before midnight, and we may as well take
-it easy now.”
-
-They continued napping. Half an hour later a gloom as of approaching
-night settled down over the landscape, and there was a threatening
-grumble of thunder in the skies. The waterfall in the hollow took on
-a strange wailing note, rising and falling with the wind, and the
-rustling of the leaves of the near woods seemed full of premonitions.
-The air began to cool and little puffs of wind began to blow, and the
-boys turned out and poked around getting breakfast. Then came some
-great scattering drops of rain, followed by a mighty crash of thunder
-and a dazzling flash of lightning that seemed to open the flood-gates
-of heaven, and the rain came down in sheets. The air took on a sharp
-chill, and the boys got on their overcoats. The wind increased in force
-and shook the tent menacingly with its mad gusts. The flashing of the
-lightning and the heavy roll of the thunder were almost continuous, and
-through it all sounded the hollow mourning of the waterfall.
-
-“I tell you,” said Harry, as he sat crouched on a roll of bedding, “I
-haven’t much confidence in our mansion for such occasions as this.”
-
-[Illustration: A DESERTED HUT IN THE WOODS]
-
-He had hardly spoken when something gave way, and down came the tent,
-smothering him in wet canvas. It was some moments before the two could
-disentangle themselves. They made unsuccessful attempts to repair the
-wreck, but finally had to be content to prop up the ridge-pole so that
-it would shed the rain from their belongings, while they secured an
-umbrella and scud through the storm to the house, which they reached
-half drenched.
-
-“The young one” was sitting by the kitchen window. Her eyes were
-dilated and she looked frightened. She had her hands folded idly in her
-lap. That was unusual, for she was ordinarily very busy.
-
-“You don’t like these thunder-storms, do you?” said Harry.
-
-Oh, she didn’t mind them, she answered.
-
-“Where’s your father?” Harry asked.
-
-“He went off down to the village before I got up. I guess he was going
-to get some flour.”
-
-“Then you’ve been all alone in this storm,” Harry said.
-
-She did not reply.
-
-A fire was burning in the stove, and the campers hung their wet
-overcoats behind it, and themselves drew chairs to the stove and sat
-with their feet on the hearth. On the table was a pile of unwashed
-dishes. From the large room next to the kitchen came the sound of
-dripping water. There was a great pool on the floor in one place, and
-two or three pans were set about to catch the streams trickling through
-the ceiling.
-
-[Illustration: CHARCOAL KILNS]
-
-“This side of the roof always leaks when it rains hard,” said Birdie.
-“Papa’s going to fix it when he has time. I never seen it rain like it
-does to-day.”
-
-The shower was very heavy, but it did not last long. The clouds rolled
-away, and the sun shone down on the drenched earth from a perfect dome
-of clear, blue sky. Birds sang, and insects hummed and chirruped in the
-grasses, and the breezes shook little showers of twinkling water-drops
-from the trees. The air was full of cool freshness and sunshine. It
-seemed to give new life and cheer to every living creature. The campers
-were quite gleeful as they ran over to their tent after the storm was
-well past.
-
-“We’ll just hoist the ridge-pole into place,” said John, “and let
-things dry off, and then we’ll pack up.”
-
-The goods inside had escaped serious wetting, but they thought best to
-hang two of the blankets on some neighboring saplings.
-
-“What a racket the water makes down in the gorge,” said Harry. “Let’s
-go down and have a look at it.”
-
-Everything was wet and slippery, and they took off shoes and stockings
-and left them at the tent.
-
-“I declare!” exclaimed John, as they approached the stream, “this is a
-big flood. There’s hardly one of those big bowlders but that the water
-covers clear to the top. How muddy it is! and see the rubbish! A man
-couldn’t live a minute if he was to jump in there. How it does boil and
-tear along!”
-
-[Illustration: ROUGH UPLANDS]
-
-“Come on, let’s go up to the dam,” shouted Harry, endeavoring to make
-himself heard above the roaring waters.
-
-He clambered along over the rocks among the trees on the steep bank,
-but he had no sooner got within seeing distance than he stopped short
-and called excitedly to John close behind him, “It’s gone! It’s gone!
-The whole thing’s washed away,--dam, and bridge, and mill,--all gone to
-smash. And see! the gorge at the fall’s all choked up with big timbers.
-See the water spout and splash about ’em.”
-
-It was a grand sight--the mighty tumble of waters from the precipice
-above, foaming down into the gorge, then broken in the narrow, almost
-perpendicular, chasm into a thousand flying sprays, whence the mists
-arose as from a monster, steaming cauldron. And there the boys saw a
-rainbow which they had looked for in vain before. They stayed nearly an
-hour, fascinated by the turmoil of the flood.
-
-“I suppose we’ve got to think about packing up,” remarked John at last,
-with a sigh.
-
-“It’s a pity we can’t stay around here another week,” said Harry.
-
-They climbed slowly up the wooded bank to the tent, pulled it to
-pieces, rolled all their belongings into snug bundles, put on shoes
-and stockings and went over to the house. As they approached they
-heard sounds of angry dispute. They turned the corner at the barn and
-stopped. La Fay was standing in the kitchen doorway. In the path before
-him stood a woman. She had on a pretty bonnet trimmed with gay ribbons.
-Over her arm hung a light shawl. Her face was thin, and there were blue
-lines beneath her burning black eyes. She stood sharply erect.
-
-“Move on!” thundered La Fay, “and never show yourself here again.”
-
-“It’s Mrs. La Fay,” whispered Harry. “She’s come back.”
-
-“Jules! Jules!” said the woman; and then her tones, either of excuse or
-pleading, dropped so low the boys did not catch the words.
-
-“We’d better go back,” suggested John.
-
-“I say I want to hear no more,” Jules continued fiercely. “The quicker
-you get off the premises, the better.”
-
-The woman looked at him in silence a moment, then turned short around
-and walked with quick steps away. La Fay stood frowning, with clenched
-fists, in the doorway. In the farther corner of the kitchen “the young
-one” was crouched in a chair, crying. The boys had turned away, but the
-drama had come to a sudden termination and they approached again.
-
-[Illustration: DECEMBER]
-
-La Fay saw them. “She’s been back,” he said; “but I’ve sent her packing
-again. She came early this morning while I was away. She was here
-through the storm.”
-
-It was a painful subject, and John hastened to say that they had packed
-up ready to go to the train.
-
-“My horse is out there by the barn hitched into my lumber-wagon,” said
-La Fay, “but I’ll change him into the carryall. I’ll be ready inside of
-ten minutes.”
-
-[Illustration: A PATH IN THE WINTER WOODS]
-
-“All right, then,” John responded; “we’ve got a little more to do to
-our bundles, and we’ll be over there with them.”
-
-At the edge of the woods they looked up the road leading away from the
-clearing, and just beyond sight of the house they saw the woman again.
-Her arms were about her head, and she was leaning face forward against
-a big chestnut-tree. Once she clasped her hands and gave a sudden look
-upward. Then she resumed the former position.
-
-The boys went down to their camp and did their final packing. The
-sunshine was becoming warmer. The wind was blowing more briskly, and
-it kept the grasses swaying and the leaves of the trees in a perpetual
-glitter of motion. In the aisles of the wood a thrush was chanting its
-beautiful song. From the hollow sounded the never-ceasing roar of the
-fall.
-
-La Fay appeared, bundles were packed into the carriage, and they were
-off. They had just entered the road leading to the highway, when Harry
-spied a shawl lying at the foot of a tall chestnut. “What’s that?” he
-asked.
-
-La Fay drew in his horse and Harry jumped out and picked it up. He
-handed it to La Fay.
-
-“Why,” said the man, “that’s Mary’s. She must have dropped it.”
-
-[Illustration: WINDY WINTER--ON THE WAY HOME FROM SCHOOL]
-
-He laid it across his knee and said nothing for a long time. Indeed,
-they were more than half-way to the depot before he spoke more. Then
-he fell to stroking the shawl gently with his right hand and said.
-“Mary ain’t done right. I know it; I know it. Poor girl! she’s had a
-rough time since she’s been away. I don’t know but I ought to have been
-easier with her. And I like her still I don’t get over that, someway. I
-can’t help it. If the past was blotted out, I’d do anything for her.”
-He spoke all this slowly and meditatively.
-
-Suddenly he straightened up. “Boys,” he exclaimed. “I’ll blot out the
-past so far as I can. I’ll start new, if Mary will. I haven’t been any
-too good myself. I know where she’ll go to-day. I’ll hunt her up on the
-way back.”
-
-With this resolution made he became quite jovial and talked very
-cheerfully all the distance to the depot. “Boys,” said he, as he shook
-hands at parting, “I’m glad you’ve been up here. You’re good fellows. I
-like to talk with you. Birdie, I know, will miss you a good deal, now
-you’re gone. She told me only yesterday, ‘I wish Mr. Clayton and Mr.
-Holmes would stay up here a long time, so I could learn to talk nice,
-the way they do.’ If you ever get around this way again be sure to come
-and see Jules the Frenchman.”
-
-The train rumbled into the station at that moment, and the campers
-hastily bade a last adieu and were off.
-
-[Illustration: AFTER A STORM]
-
-
-[Transcriber’s Note:
-
-Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's The New England Country, by Clifton Johnson
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The New England Country, by Clifton Johnson
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The New England Country
-
-Author: Clifton Johnson
-
-Illustrator: Clifton Johnson
-
-Release Date: May 10, 2017 [EBook #54695]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Anita Hammond, Wayne Hammond and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_frontis" src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">JANUARY</p></div>
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p>
-
-<h1>
-THE<br />
-NEW ENGLAND<br />
-COUNTRY<br />
-
-<img id="i_titlepage" src="images/i_titlepage.jpg" alt="" /><br />
-
-<span class="medium table">TEXT AND ILLUSTRATIONS<br />
-BY CLIFTON JOHNSON</span><br />
-
-<span class="medium table">BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD<br />
-PUBLISHERS MDCCCXCVII</span><br />
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span>
-
-<span class="copy smcap">Copyright, 1892, by Clifton Johnson</span><br />
-
-<span class="copy smcap">The New England Country</span><br />
-
-
-<span class="copy table">PRESS OF<br />
-<span class="antiqua">Rockwell and Churchill</span><br />
-BOSTON</span>
-</h1>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p>
-
-<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
-
-<table>
-  <tr>
-    <th colspan="2"><a href="#PART_I">PART I</a></th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td />
-    <td class="x-small tdr">PAGE</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><span class="smcap">Old Times on a New England Farm</span></td>
-    <td class="tdr">1</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <th colspan="2"><a href="#PART_II">PART II</a></th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><span class="smcap">The New England of To-day</span></td>
-    <td class="tdr">34</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <th colspan="2"><a href="#PART_III">PART III</a></th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><span class="smcap">New England as the Traveller sees it</span></td>
-    <td class="tdr">57</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <th colspan="2"><a href="#PART_IV">PART IV</a></th>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><span class="smcap">Camping among the New England Hills</span></td>
-    <td class="tdr">82<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span></td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p>
-
-<h2 id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
-
-<table>
-  <tr>
-    <td />
-    <td class="x-small tdr">PAGE</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_frontis"><span class="smcap">January</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr"><i>Frontispiece</i></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_001a"><span class="smcap">Old Fireplace</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">1</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_001b"><span class="smcap">A Foot-stove</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">1</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_001c"><span class="smcap">Canes and Umbrellas</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">1</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_002a"><span class="smcap">The Churn</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">2</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_002b"><span class="smcap">Ye Entrance of Old Fashion</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">2</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_002c"><span class="smcap">Farm Tools</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">2</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_003a"><span class="smcap">A Loom</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">3</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_003b"><span class="smcap">Fans and Back-comb</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">3</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_003c"><span class="smcap">Old Chairs</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">3</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_004"><span class="smcap">One of the Old Houses</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">4</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_005a"><span class="smcap">A Silhouette Portrait</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">5</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_005b"><span class="smcap">A River-boat before the Days of Railroads</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">5</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_006a"><span class="smcap">Reels</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">6</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_006b"><span class="smcap">A Comfortable Farm-house</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">6</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_006c"><span class="smcap">The Flax-wheel</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">6</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_007"><span class="smcap">February</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">7</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_009a"><span class="smcap">Kitchen Utensils</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">9</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_009b"><span class="smcap">Gourds and Piggins</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">9</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_010"><span class="smcap">The Winding Roadway</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">10</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_011a"><span class="smcap">A Mill-yard in the Valley</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">11</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_011b"><span class="smcap">A Sunny Glen</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">11</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_012"><span class="smcap">A Quiet Day</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">12</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_013"><span class="smcap">A Barn-door Group</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">13</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_014a"><span class="smcap">A Turn in the Road</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">14</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_014b"><span class="smcap">A Country Stage Coach in Winter</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">14</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_015"><span class="smcap">A Hilltop Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">15</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_016"><span class="smcap">A Little Lake</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">16</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_017"><span class="smcap">A Village Scene</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">17<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_018"><span class="smcap">Snow-fields on the Hills</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">18</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_019"><span class="smcap">March</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">19</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_021"><span class="smcap">Cleared Land</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">21</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_022"><span class="smcap">Gathering Sap in the Sugar Orchard</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">22</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_023"><span class="smcap">Wayside Berry-pickers</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">23</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_024"><span class="smcap">A Farm amid the Big Hills</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">24</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_025a"><span class="smcap">A Little Home on the Hillside</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">25</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_025b"><span class="smcap">An Old Mill</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">25</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_026"><span class="smcap">A Saw-mill</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">26</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_027"><span class="smcap">A Spring Morning</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">27</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_028"><span class="smcap">A Willow-lined River</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">28</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_029"><span class="smcap">April</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">29</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_031"><span class="smcap">A Look down on the Connecticut</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">31</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_032"><span class="smcap">The Spring Hoeing</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">32</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_033"><span class="smcap">An Old Tavern</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">33</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_034a"><span class="smcap">The Friendly Guide</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">34</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_034b"><span class="smcap">A Hill Town</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">34</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_035"><span class="smcap">The Back Sheds</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">35</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_036"><span class="smcap">Winter Twilight&mdash;Going up for one more Slide</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">36</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_037"><span class="smcap">A Hill-town Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">37</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_038"><span class="smcap">Homes and Out-buildings by the Wayside</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">38</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_039"><span class="smcap">New England Rocks</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">39</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_040"><span class="smcap">Holding the Horses while his Father goes in to get a Drink of Water</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">40</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_041"><span class="smcap">May</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">41</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_043a"><span class="smcap">A Dam on the Connecticut</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">43</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_043b"><span class="smcap">At the Railroad Station</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">43</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_044"><span class="smcap">A Manufacturing Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">44</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_045"><span class="smcap">The Railway-crossing in the Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">45</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_046"><span class="smcap">A Stone Bridge</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">46</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_047"><span class="smcap">A Group of Little Fishermen</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">47</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_048a"><span class="smcap">A Wayside Watering-trough</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">48</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_048b"><span class="smcap">A Country School watching a Team go by</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">48</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_049"><span class="smcap">An Old Burying-ground</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">49</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_050"><span class="smcap">Below the Dam</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">50</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_051a"><span class="smcap">A Massachusetts Mountain</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">51</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_051b"><span class="smcap">The Ferryboat</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">51<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_052"><span class="smcap">A Fall on the Connecticut</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">52</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_053"><span class="smcap">June</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">53</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_055a"><span class="smcap">The Growing Boy in his Last Year’s Clothes</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">55</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_055b"><span class="smcap">At the Back-door</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">55</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_056"><span class="smcap">The Academy</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">56</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_057a"><span class="smcap">A Horse-chestnut Man</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">57</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_057b"><span class="smcap">Afterglow</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">57</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_058"><span class="smcap">The Village Church</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">58</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_059a"><span class="smcap">One of the Humbler Houses</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">59</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_059b"><span class="smcap">A Deserted Home</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">59</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_060a"><span class="smcap">Getting a Load of Sawdust back of the Saw-mill</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">60</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_060b"><span class="smcap">A Meadow Stream</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">60</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_061"><span class="smcap">A Home under the Elms</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">61</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_062"><span class="smcap">A Door-step Group</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">62</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_063"><span class="smcap">A Roadside Friend</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">63</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_064"><span class="smcap">Better than Hoeing on a Hot Day</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">64</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_065"><span class="smcap">July</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">65</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_067"><span class="smcap">The Pet of the Farm</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">67</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_068"><span class="smcap">A Rainy Day</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">68</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_069"><span class="smcap">A Hamlet among the Hills</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">69</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_070"><span class="smcap">Summer Sunlight in a “Gorge Road”</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">70</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_071"><span class="smcap">One of the Little Rivers</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">71</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_072"><span class="smcap">The Village Groceryman</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">72</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_073"><span class="smcap">An Outlying Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">73</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_074"><span class="smcap">A Village View in a Half-wooded Dell</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">74</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_075"><span class="smcap">The Old Well-sweep</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">75</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_076"><span class="smcap">In Haying Time</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">76</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_077"><span class="smcap">The Stream and the Elms in the Meadow</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">77</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_078"><span class="smcap">Under the Old Sycamore</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">78</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_079"><span class="smcap">August</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">79</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_081"><span class="smcap">One of the Old Village Streets</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">81</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_082"><span class="smcap">The House with the Barn across the Road</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">82</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_083"><span class="smcap">A Warm Summer Day</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">83</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_084"><span class="smcap">At Work in her Own Strawberry Patch</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">84</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_085"><span class="smcap">September</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">85</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_087"><span class="smcap">Evening</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">87</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_088"><span class="smcap">A Load of Wood on the Way up to the Village</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">88<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span></td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_089"><span class="smcap">A Waterfall in the Woods</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">89</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_090"><span class="smcap">A Panorama of Hills and Valleys</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">90</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_091"><span class="smcap">A Pasture Group</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">91</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_093"><span class="smcap">October</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">93</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_095"><span class="smcap">A Pasture Gate</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">95</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_096"><span class="smcap">A Road by the Stream</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">96</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_097"><span class="smcap">At the Pasture Gate</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">97</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_098"><span class="smcap">The Sheep Pasture</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">98</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_099"><span class="smcap">A Quiet Pond</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">99</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_100"><span class="smcap">Husking-time</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">100</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_101"><span class="smcap">Sunlight and Shadow</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">101</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_103"><span class="smcap">November</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">103</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_105"><span class="smcap">The Village on the Hill</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">105</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_106"><span class="smcap">A Mill in the Valley</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">106</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_107"><span class="smcap">Cloud Shadows</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">107</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_109"><span class="smcap">A Log House</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">109</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_110"><span class="smcap">An Early Snow</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">110</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_111a"><span class="smcap">On a Mountain Crag</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">111</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_111b"><span class="smcap">One of the Green Mountain Peaks</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">111</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_112"><span class="smcap">Among the Big Hills</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">112</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_113"><span class="smcap">A Deserted Hut in the Woods</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">113</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_114"><span class="smcap">Charcoal Kilns</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">114</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_115"><span class="smcap">Rough Uplands</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">115</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_117"><span class="smcap">December</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">117</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_119"><span class="smcap">A Path in the Winter Woods</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">119</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_120"><span class="smcap">Windy Winter&mdash;On the Way Home from School</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">120</td>
-  </tr>
-  <tr>
-    <td><a href="#i_121"><span class="smcap">After a Storm</span></a></td>
-    <td class="tdr">121</td>
-  </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_001a" src="images/i_001a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">OLD FIREPLACE</p></div>
-
-<h2 id="PART_I">PART I<br />
-
-<span class="medium">OLD TIMES ON A NEW ENGLAND FARM</span></h2>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_001b" src="images/i_001b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A FOOT-STOVE</p></div>
-
-<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">About</span> “old times” there
-always hovers a peculiar
-charm. A dreamland atmosphere
-overhangs them. The
-present, as we battle along
-through it, seems full of hard,
-dry facts; but, looking back,
-experience takes on a rosy hue. The sharp edges are
-gone. Even the trials and difficulties which assailed us
-have for the most part lost their power to pain or try
-us, and take on a story-book interest in this mellow
-land of memories.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_001c" src="images/i_001c.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">CANES AND UMBRELLAS</p></div>
-
-<p>To speak of “the good old times” is to gently
-implicate the present, and the mild disapproval of the
-new therein suggested is, from elderly people, to be
-expected. We grow conservative with age. Quiet is
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span>
-more pleasing than change. The softened outlines of the
-past have an attraction which the present matter-of-fact
-hurry and work have not, and the times when we were
-young hold peculiar pleasure for our contemplation. To actually
-prove by logic and rule that the old times were better
-than the new would not be easy. They had their lacks.
-The world learns and gains many things as it ages. It
-is to be hoped that it grows better as it grows older; but
-even so the past has
-its charm, whether
-one of memories in
-which we ourselves
-were actors, or of story,
-which shows the contrast to the present
-which is the out-growth of that past.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_002a" src="images/i_002a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE CHURN</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_002b" src="images/i_002b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">YE ENTRANCE OF OLD FASHION</p></div>
-
-<p>In writing of “old times” we have
-a definite period in mind. All times, in
-truth, but the present are old, but wherever
-the phrase is met with, it refers to the
-years when the grandfathers and grandmothers
-then living were young. Ever
-since there were
-grandfathers and
-grandmothers there have been “old times,” and
-these times have kept even pace with the ageing
-of the world, following, shadow-like, the
-accumulating years, and always nearly three-quarters
-of a century behind the present. It
-therefore follows that the “old times” pictured
-in this volume have to do with the early part
-of this century.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_002c" src="images/i_002c.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">FARM TOOLS</p></div>
-
-<p>This old life as it ran then in our New
-England farmhouses was the typical American
-life, and was not essentially different from
-country life in any of our Northern States.
-Even with that of the city it had many things
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span>
-in common. The large places had
-much the character of overgrown
-villages, and were not yet converted
-into the great blocks of brick
-and stone, now familiar, where business
-may throng miles and miles of
-noisy streets. Factory towns, too,
-with their high-walled mills and
-grimy, crowded tenements huddling
-about, were of the future.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_003a" src="images/i_003a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LOOM</p></div>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_003b" src="images/i_003b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">FANS AND BACK-COMB</p></div>
-
-<p>But the dawn of the new
-century was the herald of change.
-Everywhere was activity. The
-country was new, and we had many needs which the Old World did not feel.
-Necessity made us inventors, and ingenuity became an American characteristic.
-A long line of towns stretched along the Atlantic coast and occupied an
-occasional interval along the larger
-streams, and houses were beginning
-to appear and hamlets to grow farther
-inland. The adventurous were
-pushing westward. The heavy canvas-topped
-wagons drawn by the slow-moving
-oxen were trundling along the
-road toward the setting sun. Under
-the white arch of canvas were stored
-the furniture and household
-supplies of a family. Behind
-were driven the sheep and
-cattle which should form the
-nucleus of new flocks in the
-new home.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_003c" src="images/i_003c.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">OLD CHAIRS</p></div>
-
-<p>The century was seven
-years old before Fulton’s
-steamer made its trial trip.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span>
-Advantage was quickly taken of this new application of power, and soon
-steam vessels were puffing up and down all the larger rivers and along
-the coast, though a dozen years elapsed before one ventured across the
-Atlantic. Railroads were still unthought of. Even wagons were not common
-for some years after the close of the last century.</p>
-
-<p>There were very few places in the United States whose inhabitants exceeded
-ten thousand in 1800; but the building of factories shortly commenced,
-and these became the magnets which drew a great tide of life from the
-country and from foreign shores into the cities. The factories gave the deathblow
-to the multitude of handicrafts which up to this time had flourished in
-the New England villages.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_004" src="images/i_004.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ONE OF THE OLD HOUSES</p></div>
-
-<p>The New England town of the period was made up of a group of
-houses about an open common. At least, it started thus. As the town grew,
-a second street or a number of them were laid out parallel or at right angles
-to the first, or houses were erected along the straggling paths which led to
-the surrounding fields; and the paths in time grew to the dignity of roads,
-and linked the scattered houses and hamlets to the parent village. The
-central village, where the lay of the land permitted, was built on a broad
-hilltop, partly, as in the case of the older towns, for purposes of defence,
-partly because here the land was less thickly overgrown with trees and
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span>
-underbrush and was more easily cleared. Another reason was that the Old
-World towns were built thus, and the emigrants to this country naturally did
-likewise, even though the Old World life in feudal times which gave reason
-for this was entirely of the past.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_005a" src="images/i_005a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT</p></div>
-
-<p>Here was the meeting-house, a big,
-quiet building fronted by the spire. A group of
-weather-worn sheds were close behind it, where
-parishioners living at a distance might shelter
-their horses during services. Not far away was
-the tavern, a substantial and roomy building
-whose sign swung from the front or dangled from
-a tree or pole close by. Then there would be
-four or five little shops and stores among the
-lines of comfortable two-story dwellings.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_005b" src="images/i_005b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A RIVER-BOAT BEFORE THE DAYS OF RAILROADS</p></div>
-
-<p>People in general neglected ornamental
-trees, though there were before this occasionally persons who had set out
-shade trees, and places which had started lines of elms along the village
-streets. About this time Lombardy poplars became fashionable. The poplar
-was a French tree, and was therefore championed by the Jeffersonian Democrats,
-who had for France a decided partiality. For the most part these
-trees have disappeared. Still, here and there their tall, compact, military
-forms are seen standing dark and stiff, and with a still lingering air about
-them of foreign strangeness. The appearance of the common or the village
-in general was little thought of. Sidewalks received almost no attention, and
-such paths as there were had been made by the wear of travel.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_006a" src="images/i_006a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">REELS</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_006b" src="images/i_006b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A COMFORTABLE FARMHOUSE</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_006c" src="images/i_006c.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE FLAX-WHEEL</p></div>
-
-<p>What fine buildings those
-houses of old times were and still
-are!&mdash;not in the least pretentious,
-but having a certain distinguished
-air of comfort and stability; no
-suggestion of the doll-house which
-so many of our Queen Anne cottages
-bring to mind, but withal an
-appearance of quiet and attractive
-dignity. The supreme effort of the
-builder seems to have centred in
-the doorways, which are often
-quite intricate in their ornament;
-yet they are never reckless
-in design, and are always
-pleasing in effect. Often,
-too, the decoration of the
-doorway was echoed in the
-ornament of the window-frames
-and the cornice under the eaves.
-Piazzas were rare, but many
-houses had a porch before
-the entrance.
-The finer residences
-had knockers on the front doors. Door-bells
-came into use a little later. Instead of the modern
-door-knobs, iron latches were used, or in some
-cases wooden ones. If the latch had no thumb-piece&mdash;and
-the more primitive ones had not&mdash;a
-string was attached and run through a hole bored
-for the purpose just above. The latch was on the
-inside, and there was no way of raising it except
-the latchstring hung out. Locking was readily accomplished
-by pulling in the string. Some houses
-had wooden buttons on the doors just over the
-latch, which, when turned down, held the latch in
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span>
-its notch and thus locked the door. In still other cases doors were locked
-by means of a fork thrust in just above the latch, but for the most part
-doors of buildings, both public and private, went unlocked.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_007" src="images/i_007.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">FEBRUARY</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_009a" src="images/i_009a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">KITCHEN UTENSILS</p></div>
-
-<p>Houses in town, and the meeting-house as well, were painted red or
-yellow. Many houses, especially
-those belonging to the
-poorer people and those outside
-the main village, were
-unpainted. On some of our
-old buildings may yet be
-seen suggestions of these
-former brilliant hues, though sun and storm have been softening the tones
-all through the years, so that only a shadowy tint of the old red or yellow
-still clings to the weather-worn clapboards. Most houses changed color to
-white, when that became the fashion fifty years ago. Blinds of the modern
-pattern were not much used before the century was well begun. In the
-Indian days heavy wooden doors were swung to
-across the window openings to bar the passage,
-but after 1750 the Indians were no longer objects of
-terror to New England people.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_009b" src="images/i_009b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GOURDS AND PIGGINS</p></div>
-
-<p>The larger wild animals were almost altogether
-gone by this time in the regions longest
-settled. The sheep pastured on the hills were
-not now in danger from prowling wolves or bears.
-Some of the old farmers had perhaps in their
-younger days heard the dismal cry of the former far off in the woods, perhaps
-had shot a black bear or two, or caught a few in traps; but now a
-bear, wolf, or wildcat was rarely seen anywhere in the vicinity of the older
-towns. Deer had almost disappeared. Wild turkeys could still be shot in
-considerable numbers, and in the fall great flocks of pigeons made their
-flights in sufficient numbers to darken the sky.</p>
-
-<p>To the boys, that seems the golden age when the Indians lurked in
-the deep woods, when bears and wolves and other wild beasts had to be
-fought with. At such a time who would not be a hero! Hoeing corn,
-digging potatoes, bringing in wood, milking cows, where is the chance to
-show our talents in these things? The heroes are in the West, the North,
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span>
-or in the Tropics now. These present times are slow and dull, and hold no
-such opportunity as had the fathers, for the valiant youth to show his
-quality. But this feeling is a mistaken one. The lives of the fathers were
-many times dull to them; they had much monotonous labor; wild animals
-were nuisances, which caused loss and worry; while the Indians gave them
-many a scare, and awakened little feeling in the youngster of that day
-beyond one of terror. At the time of which I write the pioneer epoch
-was past in New England, but many stories of Indians and wild beasts were
-told about the firesides on winter evenings.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_010" src="images/i_010.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE WINDING ROADWAY</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_011a" src="images/i_011a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A MILL-YARD IN THE VALLEY</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_011b" src="images/i_011b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A SUNNY GLEN</p></div>
-
-<p>In a country town the coming of the stage-coach was one of the
-events of its daily life. Some places were visited by the coaches once or
-twice a week, others once a day or even oftener. When the lumbering
-coach swept down the village street with crack of whip and blast of horn,
-everybody tried to see it as it rumbled past. Happy was the man or boy
-whom business or pleasure called to the tavern when the driver with a
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span>
-flourish brought his
-horses to a standstill
-before the door. The
-driver was a very important
-person in the
-eyes of most of the
-villagers, and by none
-was his importance
-more highly appreciated
-than by himself.
-His dignity was made
-the more impressive by
-the high beaver hat he
-wore. News was slow in travelling,
-and the papers of the day were
-rather barren of the gossipy items
-which the average human being
-craves. This man of the world,
-therefore, who, in his journeyings,
-saw and heard so much of which
-his fellowmen were ignorant, assumed
-a magnified importance.
-He always found ready listeners,
-and his opinions had much weight.
-If inclined to be reticent he was
-questioned and coaxed to divulge
-his knowledge of the happenings
-in the outside world with no little
-anxiety. When railroads came, the
-coaches travelled remoter ways.
-Some found a last resting-place
-in backyards, and there amid
-other rubbish, grasses, and weeds
-gradually fell to pieces. Others,
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span>
-pushed onward by the iron horse, went West, getting farther and farther
-from their old haunts, till at last the Rocky Mountains were reached. It
-may be that some of the old New England coaches are still at work in
-those rugged regions.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_012" src="images/i_012.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A QUIET DAY</p></div>
-
-<p>Another characteristic vehicle of the times was a long, heavy wagon
-with an arched canvas top and high board sides, drawn by from four to
-ten horses, which travelled between Boston and towns inland, conveying tea,
-coffee, and store goods, and returning with a load of pork, butter, cheese,
-and grain. These wagons were useful when families wished to travel long
-distances. When the railroads began to do their former work the wagons
-were utilized by the emigrants, and finally on the Western plains were given
-the name of “prairie schooners.”</p>
-
-<p>When an inland town was in the neighborhood of a navigable stream
-the heavier supplies, such as sugar, rum, and molasses, were brought up the
-river in big flat-boats. These boats were clumsy, square-ended affairs, with
-a narrow cabin across the stern just high enough for a man to stand up
-in, where were a couple of bunks and a rude stove. A big, square sail
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span>
-on a thirty-foot mast moved the craft, but when the wind failed it was
-necessary to resort to poling. The helmsman had his post on the roof of
-the cabin, and he with one other man made up the crew. Sometimes they
-ate their meals on board, sometimes stopped at a village on the banks and
-went to the tavern. When darkness settled down they hitched somewhere
-along shore, but at times, when the wind was fair and the moon bright,
-would sail on all night.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_013" src="images/i_013.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A BARN-DOOR GROUP</p></div>
-
-<p>Post-offices were in the early days far less common than now, and
-postage was expensive, varying in amount with the distance the missive
-travelled. Letters were not stamped, but the sum charged was marked on
-the corner and collected by the postmaster on delivery. Envelopes were
-not in common use till about 1850. Letters were usually written on large-sized
-paper, and as much as possible crowded on a sheet. The sheet was
-dexterously folded so that the only blank space, purposely so left, made the
-front and back of the missive. Then the letter was directed and sealed
-with wax, and was ready for the mail. Towns not favored with a post-office
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span>
-would get their mail by the stage-coach, or, if off the stage routes,
-would send a post-rider periodically to the nearest office. As the post-rider
-came jogging back with his saddle-bags full of newspapers and letters, the
-sound of his horn which told of his approach was a very pleasant one to
-those within the farm-houses, who always looked forward with eagerness to
-the day which brought the county paper with the news.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_014a" src="images/i_014a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A TURN in THE ROAD</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_014b" src="images/i_014b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A COUNTRY STAGE COACH IN WINTER
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span></p></div>
-
-<p>The out-door farm life of that time was distinguished by its long
-hours and the amount of muscle required. The tools were rude and clumsy,
-and the machines which did away with hand labor were very few. From
-seed-time to harvest, work began with the coming of day light in the morning,
-and only ceased when in the evening the gray gloom of night began
-to settle down.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_015" src="images/i_015.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A HILLTOP VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>Up to this time little fencing had been done about the pasture land,
-that being common property on which everybody turned loose their sheep
-and cattle. Many of the creatures wore bells, which tinkled and jingled on
-the hillsides and in the woods from morn till night. But now the towns
-were dividing the “commons” among the property-holders, fences were
-built, and the flocks separated. On rocky land many stone walls were built,
-but in the lowlands the usual fence was made by digging a ditch, and on
-the ridge made by the earth thrown out making a low barrier of rails,
-stakes, and brush. Gradually more substantial fences were built, for the
-most part of the zigzag Virginia rail pattern.</p>
-
-<p>Oxen did most of the heavy farm-work, such as ploughing and
-hauling, and it was not till after 1825 that horses became more general.
-The common cart which then answered in the place of our two-horse
-wagon was a huge two-wheeled affair having usually a heavy box
-body on the “ex.” But when used in haying, the sides of the box were
-removed and long stakes were substituted.</p>
-
-<p>In the summer the men were out before sun up, swinging their scythes
-through the dewy grass, and leaving long, wet windrows behind them for the
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span>
-boys to spread. Mowing, turning, and raking were all done by hand, which
-made the labor of haying an extended one. In the busiest times the women
-and girls of the family often helped in the fields “tending” hay, or loading
-it, or raking after. They helped, too, in harvesting the grain and
-flax, and later in picking up apples in the orchard. They did the milking
-the year round, using clumsy wooden pails, and for a seat, a heavy three-legged
-stool or a block of wood. The smaller children drove the cows to
-pasture in the morning and brought them back at night, often a distance of
-a mile or two along lonesome roadways or by-paths.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_016" src="images/i_016.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LITTLE LAKE</p></div>
-
-<p>When the grain ripened, it was reaped by hand with the slender, saw-edged
-sickles. The peas and oats, which were sowed together, had to be
-mowed and gotten in; the flax had to be pulled and rotted; there was hoeing
-to be done, and the summer was full of work. In the fall the corn
-had to be cut and husked and the stalks brought in, the pumpkins and
-squashes gathered, potatoes dug, the haying finished, and the apples picked.
-Most farms had large orchards about them, and many barrels of apples were
-stowed away in the cellar, but the larger part was made into cider. There
-would usually be several little cider-mills in a town, whose creaking machinery
-could be heard on many a cool autumn day groaning under its labors.
-The shaking of the apple-trees and carting the fruit to mill, and the taking
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span>
-copious draughts of the sweet liquid through a straw from the tub that
-received it from the press, and then the return with the full barrels&mdash;all
-this had more of the frolic in it than real work, particularly for the boys.
-The sweet apples, in large part, were run through the mill by themselves,
-and the cider was boiled down at home into a thick fluid known as apple-molasses,
-used for sweetening pies, sauce, and puddings. When harvesting
-was done, the cellar was full of vegetables in barrels and bins and heaps, and
-heavy casks of cider lined the walls, and little space was left for passageways.
-Even in broad daylight it was a place mysterious, gloomy, and dungeon-like;
-yet its very fulness which made it thus was suggestive of good cheer.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_017" src="images/i_017.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A VILLAGE SCENE</p></div>
-
-<p>Winter, too, brought plenty of work, but it was not so arduous and
-long-continued as that of summer. There was the stock to feed and water
-and keep comfortable; the threshing to do; trees must be felled in the
-woods and sledded to the home yard, there to be worked up into fireplace
-length; tools needed mending; there was the flax to attend to, and, if new
-fencing was to be done in the spring, rails must be split.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span></p>
-
-<p>Grain was threshed out with hand-flails on the barn floor. On many
-days of early winter and from many a group of farm buildings the rhythmic
-beat of the flails sounded clear on the frosty air as straw and grain parted
-company. When it was necessary to go to mill, the farmer filled a couple
-of bags, fastened them across the back of his horse, mounted in front, and
-trotted off to get it ground, or perhaps his wife or one of the children
-mounted instead and did the errand. The grist-mill was in some hollow
-where the water paused above in a sleepy pond, and then, having turned the
-great slow-revolving wooden wheel against the side of the mill, tumbled noisily
-on down the ravine.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_018" src="images/i_018.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">SNOW-FIELDS ON THE HILLS</p></div>
-
-<p>In the earliest days of spring, if the farm had a maple orchard within
-its borders, there were trees to tap, and sap to gather and boil down. The
-snow still lay deep in the woods where the maples grew, and the sap-gathering
-was done with an ox-sled on which was set a huge cask. In some sheltered
-nook of the woods a big kettle was swung over an open-air fire, and the
-boiling-down process commenced.</p>
-
-<p>Not much farm produce was sold for money; the people raised and
-made much more of what they ate and wore than at present, and exchanged
-with neighbors and the village storekeeper whatever they had a surplus of
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span>
-for things which they lacked. Even the minister and doctor were paid in
-part with wood, grain, and other produce. At the beginning of the century
-accounts were kept in pounds, shillings, and pence, and the money in use
-was of foreign coinage, mainly English and Spanish.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_019" src="images/i_019.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">MARCH</p></div>
-
-<p>The kitchen was the centre of family life. Here a vast amount of
-work was done. Here they ate, spent their evenings, and commonly received
-visitors. Often it served as a sleeping-room besides. Its size was ample,
-though the ceiling was low and pretty sure to be crossed by a ponderous
-beam of the framework of the house, the lower half projecting from the
-plastering above. A few straight-backed chairs sat stiffly up against the
-wainscoted wall, and seemed to have an air of reserve that would change
-to surprise if one ventured to move or use them. There stood the dresser,
-with bright array of pewter, a small table, a bed turned up against the wall
-and hidden by curtains, a cradle, a stand, a great high-backed settle, and
-lastly, extending almost across one end of the room, was the most important
-feature of the kitchen, the fireplace.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_021" src="images/i_021.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">CLEARED LAND</p></div>
-
-<p>Let us take an early morning look into one of these old kitchens.
-Dusky shadows still linger; we cannot make objects out clearly; one or two
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span>
-coals are glowing in the cavernous mouth of the fireplace, and a wisp of
-smoke steals upward and is lost in the gloomy chimney. It is late in the
-fall. When winter really sets in, the turned-up bed will come into use.
-Somebody is moving about in the bedroom, and now the door is opened and
-the man of the house, in frowzled head, comes from the sleeping-room. He
-is in his shirt-sleeves, and the heels of his big slippers clatter on the floor
-as he shuffles across to the fireplace. He is a smooth-faced, middle-aged
-man, vigorous, but slow-moving, and bent by hard work. He pokes away
-the ashes, throws on the coals a few sticks from a pile of three-foot wood
-on the floor close by, and in a few moments there is a fine blaze and crackle.
-The room is chilly, and the man rubs his hands together, stooping forward
-to catch the warmth from the fire. A scratching is heard on the outside
-door. He shuffles over and opens it. The cat glides in and rubs against
-him gratefully as she goes over to the fireplace, where she seats herself on
-the hearth and proceeds to make an elaborate toilet.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_022" src="images/i_022.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GATHERING SAP IN THE SUGAR ORCHARD</p></div>
-
-<p>The man kicks off his slippers and pulls on a pair of stiff, heavy
-boots. He takes his coat from a peg by the fireplace, puts it on and his cap,
-and goes out. Every footstep falls clear and distinct on the frozen ground.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span>
-The big arm of the well-sweep in the yard creaks as he lowers the bucket
-for water. Soon he returns with a brimming pail, fills the iron tea-kettle,
-then goes out again.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_023" src="images/i_023.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">WAYSIDE BERRY-PICKERS</p></div>
-
-<p>The kettle, suspended from the crane, seems quite shocked by this
-deluge of cold water. It swings in nervous motion on its pot-hook and shakes
-from its black sides the water-drops, which fall with a quick hiss of protest
-into the fire. The heat below waxes greater, and the cat moves to a cooler
-position.</p>
-
-<p>It is lighter now. The tea-kettle recovers from its ill-humor, and, half
-asleep, sings through its nose a droning song of contentment and sends up
-the chimney quite a little cloud of steam. Now the woman of the family
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span>
-has appeared and bustles about getting breakfast. She calls the children at
-the chamber door. Down they come, and crowd about the fire or scrub
-themselves in the wash-basin on the table. Grandfather is up, and he and
-the older boys go out-doors. Grandma helps the smaller children fasten
-their clothes and wash their faces, and assists about the housework.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_024" src="images/i_024.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A FARM AMID THE BIG HILLS</p></div>
-
-<p>Some of the older girls, perhaps grandma or the mother also, soon take
-their wooden pails and go to the barn to milk the cows. When they returned,
-they strained the milk through cloths held over the tops of the pails into
-the brown earthen pans, and then were ready to help with the breakfast
-preparations. A second kettle has been hung from the crane, in which
-potatoes are boiling. Coals have been raked out on the hearth, and over
-them is set a long-legged spider on which slices of pork are sizzling.</p>
-
-<p>By the time breakfast was ready, the men, by reason of their open-air
-exercise, had appetites which nought but very hearty food could appease.
-Before they sat down to eat, the family gathered about the table and stood
-while the head of the family asked a blessing. Then the older ones seated
-themselves, while the children went to a small second table at one side, about
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span>
-which they stood and ate, trotting over to the main table when they wished
-to replenish their plates.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_025a" src="images/i_025a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LITTLE HOME ON THE HILLSIDE</p></div>
-
-<p>Many families had cider on the table to drink at every meal. Other
-people would have coffee or
-sometimes tea, though the latter
-was not much used except
-for company, and neither
-to such an extent as at
-present. Coffee was sweetened
-with molasses ordinarily, and
-so accustomed did palates become
-to this, that when sugar
-came into more general use, it was considered by many a very poor substitute.</p>
-
-<p>Breakfast eaten, the household gathered about the main table once
-more and stood while thanks were returned. Then followed family worship.
-It was customary to read the Bible from beginning to end,&mdash;a chapter each
-morning,&mdash;all the family reading verses in turn; and then, if they were musical,
-a hymn was sung. Lastly, all knelt while prayer was offered.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_025b" src="images/i_025b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AN OLD MILL</p></div>
-
-<p>Work now began again. The men left to take up their labor out of
-doors, while the women busied themselves in the house with their varied
-tasks. As the morning wore away, preparation began for dinner. What
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span>
-was known as a “boiled dinner” was most often planned. It was prepared
-in a single great pot. First the meat was put in; then from time to time,
-according as the particular things were quick or slow in cooking, the vegetables
-were added,&mdash;potatoes, beets, squash, turnip, and cabbage,&mdash;and probably in
-the same pot a bag of Indian pudding. When clock or noon-mark registered
-twelve, the dinner was dished up and the men called in. The meal was
-hearty and simple, and the family did not feel the need of much besides
-the meat and vegetables. Even bread was hardly thought necessary. Sometimes
-pie or pudding was brought on for dessert, but not regularly. The
-pie-eating era began a generation later.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_026" src="images/i_026.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A SAW-MILL</p></div>
-
-<p>At six o’clock the supper-table was set. The cows had been fed and
-milked; the boys had brought in the wood, and as they had no wood-boxes,
-they dumped the heavy three-foot sticks on the floor by the fire, or stood
-it up on end against the wall at one side, or piled it between the legs of the
-kitchen table; and other odd jobs were done, and the family gathered about
-the table. Bread and milk was quite apt to be the chief supper dish.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span>
-After the blessing was asked and the elders had seated themselves, the children
-would fill their pewter porringers or wooden bowls and pull their chairs up
-about the fireplace. Instead, they would sometimes crouch on the stone hearth,
-while the fire glowed and crackled and set the lights and shadows playing
-about the little figures. Their chatter back and forth and the company of
-the fire made their circle like a little world in itself, and the grown folks
-and their talk seemed far, far away.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_027" src="images/i_027.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A SPRING MORNING</p></div>
-
-<p>When supper was ended and the dishes done, the women took up
-their sewing and knitting. Almost
-everything worn was of home
-manufacture, and the task of making
-and mending was a never-ending
-one. Even the little girls of
-four or five years were not idle,
-but were taking their first lessons
-with the knitting-needles. The
-men had less real work to do,&mdash;perhaps
-were occupied with
-mending a broken harness or
-tool, making a birch broom, whittling out a few clothes-pins, or constructing
-a box-trap in which to catch mice. Sometimes certain of the family played
-games. Evening, too, was a time for reading.</p>
-
-<p>Just before the children went to bed, the family laid aside all tasks
-and games, and read a chapter from the Bible and had prayers. By nine
-o’clock all had retired except the father,&mdash;the head of the family,&mdash;who wound
-the clock, pulled off his boots in a boot-jack of his own making, and yawned
-as he shovelled the ashes over some of the larger hard-wood coals, lest
-the fire should be lost during the night. Then he, too, disappeared, and the
-fire snapped more feebly, with now and then a fresh but short-lived effort to
-blaze, and so faded into a dull glow and left the gloomy shadows of the
-room in almost full sway.</p>
-
-<p>It is difficult to compare the old life with the new and say that in
-any particular way one was better than the other, and decide under which
-conditions character would grow most manly or most womanly. Human
-nature is the same now as fifty or seventy-five years ago; but that nature
-grows in a different soil, and surrounded by a different atmosphere. Our
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span>
-present standards are unlike the old, the conditions surrounding us have
-changed, and the way in which our feelings, our desires, and aspirations
-find expression is changed as well.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_028" src="images/i_028.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A WILLOW-LINED RIVER</p></div>
-
-<p>It is certain that all the elements of life and growth are within easier
-reach, and may more easily be drawn together and assimilated, that under
-favorable conditions one can get a finer and broader culture. Nature with
-all its forces, holding power for help and hindrance, has been brought more
-under man’s subjection. Contributions to the sum of human thought and
-knowledge have been many and valuable. As the years have slipped away
-the upward path has been made broader and smoother, and one can travel
-it in more comfort and go much faster. But, at the same time, the downward
-paths have increased in number and attractiveness, and the narrower
-ways and more rigid training of three generations ago would unquestionably
-have held some steady who now are deteriorating.</p>
-
-<p>The fathers made the path toward virtue both narrow and rugged.
-It required sturdy self-control to keep that way; but each sternly held
-himself, his family, and his neighbors to the task. Any backsliding or stepping
-aside called for severe reprimand or punishment. About their lives
-was a certain forbidding formality and setness. They had a powerful sense
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span>
-of independence, but were very conservative. Any change of thought or
-action was looked upon as dangerous, and they often made what was
-their independence another’s bonds. Life was to them very serious. In it,
-according to their interpretation, there was room for little else than sober
-years of work. What enjoyment they got in life came from the satisfaction
-in work accomplished, in an improved property, and in prosperous sons and
-daughters.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_029" src="images/i_029.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">APRIL</p></div>
-
-<p>Men’s character moulds their features. It graved deep lines of stubborn
-firmness on the faces of the men of that time. There were shown
-determination and enterprise and ingenuity. In the eyes were steadiness and
-sturdy honesty. But the softening which the free play of humor and imagination
-would help produce were lacking. The man’s nature was petrified
-into a rock which held its own, and withstood the sunshine and the buffeting
-storm with equal firmness. He had ability and willingness to bear great
-burdens, and the generation did a vast amount of work in the world.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_031" src="images/i_031.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LOOK DOWN ON THE CONNECTICUT</p></div>
-
-<p>The individual to-day is much more independent of the world close
-about him than he was seventy-five years ago. He asks less of his neighbors,
-they less of him. The interests of the community are of less importance
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span>
-to him, and he is of less importance to the community. The
-town which in the old days would have been a little world to him is now
-but a small space on the earth. Man has grown more restless. A quiet life
-of simple usefulness is not enough. His fingers itch for money and he
-dreams of fame. He feels the swirl of the current which draws him toward
-those great whirlpools of life,&mdash;our modern cities. There alone, it seems to
-him, are things done on a grand scale to be admired; there alone he sees
-fair scope for energy and ability. One by one the country dwellers leave
-the home farms, and some there are win fame and some get fortune, but
-many are forever lost sight of.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_032" src="images/i_032.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE SPRING HOEING</p></div>
-
-<p>In times past there was
-less hurry and more content.
-To be satisfied with what one
-has is to have happiness, whether
-one lives in a hovel or in a
-mansion. To live with economy in
-comfort was once enough. But the
-view of what constitute the
-necessities of comfort has
-changed vastly, and what would
-once have been accounted luxury
-may now be but a painful meagreness.
-The people formerly travelled
-very little, and had small contact
-with outside life, save that of
-neighboring towns, which differed
-little from that at home. Journeys which now, with the aid of steam,
-are slight undertakings, were then very serious. In the case of journeys of
-any length, prayers were offered in church for the traveller’s safe return;
-and when the journey was ended, the minister gave thanks for the happy
-accomplishment of the trip. The labor and uncertainty connected with a
-long journey, and the unfamiliarity with the destination, made home seem a
-very safe and comfortable place. The newspapers were prosy and slow,
-and gave little account of the outside world to excite and attract the young.
-Long reports of legislative and congressional doings, and discussions of subjects
-political and religious, filled many columns. No space was wasted on
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span>
-light reading. The object was not so much to interest as to instruct the
-reader. The communications and reports of news were inclined to be prosy
-and pompous, but were always thoughtful and courteous, rarely abusive or
-trivial. There was an almost entire lack of local news, and such things as
-stories, slang, or nonsense were not allowed.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_033" src="images/i_033.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AN OLD TAVERN</p></div>
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span></p>
-
-<h2 id="PART_II">PART II<br />
-
-<span class="medium">THE NEW ENGLAND OF TO-DAY</span></h2>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_034a" src="images/i_034a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE FRIENDLY GUIDE</p></div>
-
-<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> New England country has with the ageing of
-the century been depopulated. The causes are
-various, but the evolution of the newspaper has much
-to do with this. Visions of movement, and wealth, and
-fame penetrate daily to the smallest village. Youth has
-always elements of unfixity and uneasiness. It craves
-stir and excitement. The future is full of golden possibilities.
-Riches or position present no height which
-may not be scaled. But it is not the farm which holds
-these higher possibilities. No, they are to be won in
-store, or shop, or bank, where the noisy tides of the
-big towns keep up their restless sway through the leagues
-of brick-walled city streets. In the city is always movement. Not a paper
-comes into the country village but that tells of some grand emprise, some fresh
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span>
-excitement, that has its home in a familiar near city. But the chronicler for
-the home village finds no items more worthy of note than that some one’s cow
-has died, and that Amanda Jones is visiting Susan Smith. The contrast
-presented is one of home monotony and triviality, and city stir and grandeur.
-The picture is not altogether a
-true one. Acquaintance with
-the big places is to the country
-boy almost uniformly disappointing.
-The buildings are
-not so high nor so fine as he
-supposed. The din and crowds
-of the city streets grow confusing
-and wearisome. If he stays
-and gains a situation, and begins
-to work his way up in
-the world, he finds competition
-intense, his freedom sharply curtailed,
-and his lodgings narrow
-and in many ways lacking comfort. If he lives on his wages, which at first
-will be very small, close economy is required in food, clothes, and other
-expenses. In summer the heat is apt to make office and lodging-place
-stiflingly disagreeable. All through the year memories of the home farm, if
-he be imaginatively inclined, make Arcadian pictures in his mind, and he
-many times questions if he has not jumped from the frying-pan into
-the fire.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_034b" src="images/i_034b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A HILL TOWN</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_035" src="images/i_035.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE BACK SHEDS</p></div>
-
-<p>No one place holds every element of pleasure or comfort. The country
-has its lacks, so has the city. The ideal home is perhaps in the country
-village within easy travelling distance of some big town. Thus you may
-largely avoid the drawbacks of either place, while you have within reach all
-their pleasures. To live far back among the hills, cut off from the nearest
-railway station by many miles of hard travelling, is, in these modern days,
-a positive hardship. Few young people will settle down contentedly where
-they are so cut off from the pleasures of seeing the world by occasional
-railroad trips, and getting the glimpses they crave of the busier life of the
-cities. Hence the tide sets away from the remoter towns. The masses always
-follow the turn of the current whichever way it shows strong tendency to
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span>
-run, and the boys, as they grow up, live in full expectation of leaving the
-home place after school-days are over. One by one they go from the valleys
-and the hill-tops, and merge into the busier life of the factory villages and
-the cities. An air of depression lingers over the regions they leave. The
-most vigorous life has departed, enterprise is asleep, thrift lags. There are
-still houses neatly kept, with clean, well-tilled fields about, and a town now
-and then which is a happy exception to the rule; but there is much which
-is hopeless and despondent. Few roads can be followed far without coming
-upon some broken-windowed ruin of a house, now for years unoccupied, and
-wholly given over to decay. The children left, drawn by dreams of the
-gains the city or the sea or the far West offered; and the parents are gone,
-too, now. The shingles and clapboards loosen and the roof sags, and
-within, damp, mossy decay has fastened itself to walls, floor, and ceiling of
-every room. Gaps have broken in the stone walls along the roadway, and
-the brambles are thick springing on either side. In the front yard is a
-gnarled, untrimmed apple-tree with a great broken limb sagging to the ground,
-and about a ragged growth of bushes. As time goes on, the house falls
-piece by piece, and at last only the shattered chimney stands, a grim monument
-of the one-day comfortable home&mdash;a memorial of the dead past.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span>
-Yet even now life is not all of the past. Amidst the rubbish careful
-watching might reveal many of the little creatures of the field, and at
-eventide of summer days you might see a darting of wings and descry
-a little company of swallows dipping toward the chimney’s open cavern.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_036" src="images/i_036.jpg" alt="" />"
-<p class="caption">WINTER TWILIGHT&mdash;GOING UP FOR ONE MORE SLIDE</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_037" src="images/i_037.jpg" alt="" />"
-<p class="caption">A HILL-TOWN VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>Some of the deserted homes would be still habitable, and that
-very comfortably so, were there tenants. The life possible on these farms
-would seem much happier and more desirable than that possible to the
-poor family in the tenement of a factory village or in the crowded quarters
-of our cities. But the country is to such very “lonesome,” and there is hardly
-a city family of the more ignorant classes but will choose squalor in the
-city rather than comfort in the country. The noise and continual movement
-of the town have become a part of their lives, and severed from that
-it is but a blank, unspeaking landscape unfolds before their eyes. Nature is
-really never lonesome. Only our habit and education make it so seem.
-Nature is always singing, whether in our fellow humans, or in the hills and
-valleys, or in the life of plants and animals. It is we lack eyes to see and
-ears to hear. Nevertheless, mankind is naturally social, and though Robinson
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span>
-Crusoe and his island were very interesting, we do not envy him the
-experience, and demand at least a few congenial neighbors within easy reach.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_038" src="images/i_038.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">HOMES AND OUT-BUILDINGS BY THE WAYSIDE</p></div>
-
-<p>There is hardly any purely farming community in New England but
-that has decreased in population within the past fifty years. It has been
-the hill towns which have suffered most, but the valley towns have been
-affected as well. It has become the habit to account all country life dull,
-and the city’s superior liveliness, and the chances to earn ready money
-offered by stores and factories, draw away the life of even the most favored
-communities. New England is to-day much less a region of thrifty Yankee
-farmers than it is a land of busy manufacturing villages. Of these, enterprise
-and ingenious inventiveness are characteristic. They call to them a large
-foreign population which fills the monotonous rows of tenements in the
-neighborhood of the mills, or in the case of the more thrifty establishes
-itself in little separate family homes on the outskirts. The farming regions
-about naturally take to market gardening, and these places become the chief
-buyers of produce for the country miles about.</p>
-
-<p>Farming towns within easy distance of the railroads usually attain a
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span>
-fair prosperity, and energy and forethought give good returns for labor
-expended. The towns themselves with their elm-shadowed streets are neatly
-kept, and there is a certain pride taken in the good appearance of the
-homes half hidden in the drooping foliage. In the remoter towns are found
-thrifty dairy farms here and there, but the villages as a whole are inclined
-to look weatherworn and hopeless. Many of the houses have been strangers
-to fresh paint for a score of years or more; and others, though still inhabited,
-depress with their broken chimnies, leaky roofs, and decrepit out-buildings;
-while there are not wanting the homes altogether deserted, silent, broken-windowed,
-and sepulchral. Often these upland towns are nearly barren of
-well-grown trees which might add so much to their appearance, and the trees
-there are, look wind-blown and storm-beaten. This, with the thin, weedy
-grasses which grow on the opens before the churches, gives such places an
-accumulated forlornness.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_039" src="images/i_039.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NEW ENGLAND ROCKS</p></div>
-
-<p>It may be possible to find one of the outlying hamlets entirely deserted.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span>
-There are little villages where you may find half a dozen or more
-forsaken homes, and no more than one or two still occupied; and the whole
-village and land is concentrated in one or two big farms,&mdash;big only in
-acres, however. There is slight attempt, as a rule, to keep up a thorough
-tillage. The best of the fields are gone over each year and a scanty harvest
-gleaned, and it may be questioned if equal labor on fewer acres would not
-produce greater results. The surplus buildings of the now depopulated village
-receive slight care, and time and decay deal hardly with them. The
-best of them serve as storage places for farm crops or tools. The more
-broken-down are levied upon occasionally for a few boards to mend a fence
-or a leak in one of the neighboring buildings, and so is hastened their time
-of complete ruin.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_040" src="images/i_040.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">HOLDING THE HORSES WHILE HIS FATHER GOES IN TO GET A DRINK OF WATER</p></div>
-
-<p>Some places have won the favor of the summer visitors, and so have
-gained renewed prosperity. A few weeks’ sojourn far from the heat and
-noise of the city on these quiet, breezy hill-tops is no small pleasure, and
-many a person of means takes pride in the cottage home he has bought
-in some nook he thinks especially favored by nature, and looks forward all
-through the lengthening days of the spring to the time when he can unlock
-its door once more, wind the clock in the hall, and settle himself with his
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span>
-family for the yearly vacation. He finds not a little fussing and fixing to
-employ him about the place, and he saunters forth in his oldest suit, when the
-notion takes him, to talk with his neighbors the farmers. The chances are he
-gets off his coat and renews his youth by helping in the hay-field, and
-there, like enough, the rest of his flock hunt him out, and all have a
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span>
-triumphal ride on the loaded cart behind the slow-moving oxen to the
-barn.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_041" src="images/i_041.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">MAY</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_043a" src="images/i_043a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A DAM ON THE CONNECTICUT</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_043b" src="images/i_043b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AT THE RAILROAD STATION</p></div>
-
-<p>When the summer visitor came up from the railroad station on the
-train, he noted the enticing look of the little streams in the hollows, and
-the tinkling murmur of the waterfalls sounded in his ear a call to get
-forth his fishing-rod. He was not long settled in his vacation home before
-the fishing-tackle was forthcoming, and he might be seen with vast caution
-and seriousness following up the neighboring brook through the tangled
-woods, and across the pastures among the rank-growing ferns and grasses,
-casting the fly and trailing it after the most approved fashion along the
-surface of the water, and perchance, if destiny favored, pulling forth at times
-a dainty little trout. The streams are so thoroughly fished that at finger-length,
-in the more accessible regions, the fish is esteemed a prize. Driving
-is always in order. There are glens, and waterfalls, and high hills with
-wonderfully far outlooks, and delightful winding valleys, to visit almost without
-number.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_044" src="images/i_044.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A MANUFACTURING VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>On Sunday the summer visitor goes to the village church. Perhaps
-the services are not as brilliant as those to which he is used, but there is
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span>
-a comfortable simplicity to the place, the people, the sermon, and the singing
-which charms. The visitor is often a ready and valued helper in making the
-church and its belongings more attractive, and takes an interest in the schools
-and library and appearance of the town, which to many a place has been
-of great assistance. The vacation which includes, beside the ordinary out-door
-pleasuring, some of this sort of helpfulness gives a multiplied satisfaction
-at its close.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_045" src="images/i_045.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE RAILWAY-CROSSING IN THE VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>The country dwellers of New England are not to-day, in the mass, as
-strong charactered and vigorously intelligent as were those of the early part
-of the century. Those elements have found greater attraction and greater
-chance of reward elsewhere. It often happens that thrift seems to dwell
-rather with recent comers from across the water than with the older families.
-This is sometimes claimed to be because the first will live more meanly than
-the latter could bring themselves to. The truth is, the new-comers have no
-pride of family name to sustain, they know attainment rests only on hard work,
-and their secret of success lies more in their steady labor and good business
-habits than in any meanness of living. The scions of the old families are
-looser in their methods and more reckless and showy, and far less given to
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span>
-vigorous work. They may be heard to bewail over this foreign element as
-usurpers; but in reality comers of thrift and intelligence, whatever their former
-homes, are a help to the town life. Hard work, saving habits, and the aspiration
-to give the children of the family an education, has a healthful effect on
-character, and win oftentimes for those growing up in these homes culture
-and practical ability equalling the best of that of the older families. If a
-foreign family takes up with some little house on the outskirts, it may live
-very shabbily for the first few years. But the land about is gradually brought
-under full and thrifty tillage, little sheds begin to spring up behind the house,
-by and by a barn is built, and then the house is made over and an L added,
-and the progress toward prosperity as presented to the eye is a thing to be
-admired. It is almost always the remnants of the worn-out Yankee families
-which come on the town, and not these foreigners.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_046" src="images/i_046.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A STONE BRIDGE</p></div>
-
-<p>“Yankee” has become almost a synonym for ingeniousness, thrift, and
-“cuteness.” You can’t scare him; get him in a tight place and he will
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span>
-find a way out; set him a task and he will find some way to do it in half
-the time you expected; make him the butt of a joke and he will get even
-with you and pay heavy interest; no matter what part of the earth you transplant
-him to or the conditions you surround him with, he accommodates
-himself to the new circumstances, and proceeds with alacrity to financially
-profit by them. He is a born arguer, and a born pedler, and a born whittler,
-a Jack-at-all-trades and good at them all.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_047" src="images/i_047.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A GROUP OF LITTLE FISHERMEN</p></div>
-
-<p>This, it may be, is the typical Yankee, and without a doubt such can
-be found; but not every inhabitant of New England is made that way.
-Yankees are of all kinds, and the abilities, virtues, and short-comings are
-much mixed in the parcelling out. The Yankee is a man of opinions, and
-shows great readiness to impart them to others; but the depth or shallowness
-of these depends on the man. He is inclined to slow speaking and nasal
-tones, and when a question is asked has a way of turning it over in his
-mind once or twice before he gives answer, often improving the interval to
-spit seriously and meditatively. In bargaining, whatever the amount involved,
-he is given to dickering, crying down, or upholding the price, according
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span>
-as he is buyer or seller. The thrifty man is sometimes simply the man
-of push and ability, sometimes the miserly man who drives sharp bargains
-and forecloses mortgages when his
-poor neighbors are in trouble, and
-sells hard cider to the drinkers;
-or he may be one of high standing
-in church and community, who,
-though stickling for fairness, is sure
-to buy low and sell high; who is
-up at sunrise in summer and long
-before daylight in winter; who
-makes long days and fills them
-with hard work, and is esteemed a hard master by sons and hired men; who
-lives frugally, and when it comes to spending, as the saying goes, “squeezes
-the dollar until the eagle squeals.”</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_048a" src="images/i_048a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A WAYSIDE WATERING-TROUGH</p></div>
-
-<p>As a rule New England country people save nothing above expenses,
-and even then, spending all they earn, can have few more than the most
-common comforts of life, and rarely a luxury. Circumstance or some untoward
-accident of fate may bring this result, but an unstriving lack of
-thrift is more frequently the cause. Those of this class have a way of
-being always a little behind in what they do, and there is a dragging want
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span>
-of vitality in what they attempt. They are a little late in planting, a
-little late in harvesting. They never get full crops, and fall below the
-best always in quality, and are apt to suffer loss through frost or foul
-weather. “The stitch in time which saves nine” about their buildings they
-do not take, and these buildings lose boards here and there, and presently
-begin to sag and need a prop to keep them from coming down prone. So
-crops, and animals, and farm-tools are ill-protected, and there is increased loss.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_048b" src="images/i_048b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A COUNTRY SCHOOL WATCHING A TEAM GO BY</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_049" src="images/i_049.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AN OLD BURYING-GROUND</p></div>
-
-<p>As compared with the typical Southerner, the Yankee has less warmth
-of enthusiasm, less open-heartedness and chivalry, but he is steadier and has
-greater staying-power. The ne’er-do-well class of the North may wear their
-hearts on their sleeves and be as free as air in their kindliness and generosity;
-but Yankee thrift, however generous or philanthropic, is self-controlled and
-inclined to be reticent and politic. But though this may lessen the charm
-and poetry of it, there is no doubting its increased effectiveness.</p>
-
-<p>Thrift is apt to become with the well-to-do a sort of passion. The
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span>
-lack of it in a neighbor stirs continued and sarcastic criticism. On the
-other hand, thrift easily runs into closeness; but the worshipper of thrift is
-not mean and entirely selfish in this regard. It is a pleasure to him to see
-well-tilled fields, even if they belong to others, and he has the wish to make
-what attracts him general. The rich at their death often leave their fortunes
-in whole or in part to some charity or educational institution which will
-further a more general thrift.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_050" src="images/i_050.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">BELOW THE DAM</p></div>
-
-<p>In stories of New England village-life we find a curious dialect used
-by the characters. Quaintness and uncouthness are both prominent. To
-one thoroughly acquainted with its people these stories savor of exaggeration
-and caricature. Ignorance everywhere uses bad grammar, whether in
-town or country, New England or elsewhere. Isolation tends also to careless
-speech. But the New Englander has not either, as a rule, to so marked a
-degree as to make him the odd specimen of humanity pictured in books. Life
-in the small villages and on the outlying farms does not present very numerous
-social advantages, and the result is a necessity for depending on one’s
-own resources. This, with those possessed of some mental vigor, develops
-individuality of thought and stable and forceful character. In the towns it
-requires the consultation and help of about half a dozen friends for a young
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span>
-person to accomplish any given object, great or small. On the farm, where
-neighbors are few, the boy or girl does his or her own thinking and
-working. Such have more pith and point to their brain movement, and in
-after life under as favoring circumstances will accomplish more.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_051a" src="images/i_051a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A MASSACHUSETTS MOUNTAIN</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_051b" src="images/i_051b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE FERRYBOAT
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p></div>
-
-<p>Individuality expresses itself in manner and speech as well as thought,
-and odd ways and queer ideas and peculiar observations are to be met
-with very commonly in the New England country. The heavy work brings
-a certain amount of clumsiness with the strength. The rough clothes usually
-worn, and the slight care given them, often make an individual grotesque,
-and the majority of the workers attain to the picturesque in their costumes
-with their variety of patched and faded oldness. A peculiarity of recent
-years has come with the fashion of derby hats. There is a naturalness
-about an old slouch hat, however ancient, stained, and misshapen. If it does
-not grow old gracefully, it at least does so logically and without reminding
-the beholder of a more exalted past. But the battered and leaky derby
-retains to the last a stiff look of aristocracy which ill fits its dilapidated
-seediness.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_052" src="images/i_052.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A FALL ON THE CONNECTICUT</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_053" src="images/i_053.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">JUNE</p></div>
-
-<p>But whether a man is uncouth or not depends on other things than
-his occupation. Neatness is a growth from within rather than from without,
-and though no sensible farmer works in his Sunday clothes on week-days,
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span>
-there are many by whom you are agreeably impressed, no
-matter where you meet them. A look from the car window
-on a rainy day, as you pause at the villages on
-your route, reveals a curious motley group hanging about
-the platform. The depot is a favorite resort on stormy
-days when work is slack on the farm; but loafing is not
-characteristic of the best of the community, and it is
-hardly fair to judge all by the specimens who here present
-themselves.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_055a" src="images/i_055a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE GROWING BOY IN HIS LAST YEAR’S CLOTHES</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_055b" src="images/i_055b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AT THE BACK-DOOR</p></div>
-
-<p>Indoors, where presides the housewife, we expect
-to find neatness in supreme rule, for the New England
-woman has in that a wide repute. It is to be doubted
-if the old-time shining and spotless interiors which the
-grandmothers tell about are as universal now as formerly.
-But house-cleanings come with great regularity
-in most families, and the consumption of brooms and
-scrubbing-brushes in New England is something enormous. With the advent
-of wall-paper and carpets and the great variety of furniture and knick-knacks
-now within reach, has come a discontent with the old simplicity, and the
-changes are often not pleasing. Taste runs too much in wall-paper and
-carpets to dark colors
-and pronounced patterns,
-and the rooms appear
-boxy. If much money
-is spent on furniture it
-is apt to be spent on
-style rather than on substantial
-and quiet comfort.
-The pictures on
-the walls are usually a
-queer collection, from&mdash;it
-would be hard to imagine
-where; of colored
-prints, engravings cut
-from newspapers, and
-photographs of deceased
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span>
-members of the family. The science of house decoration is something very
-modern, and it will take time to learn how to do it simply and harmoniously.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_056" src="images/i_056.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE ACADEMY</p></div>
-
-<p>Life’s currents pursue a tangled course, and while we catch many
-strains of harmony, there are discordant notes of which we rarely get entirely
-out of hearing. New England is not perfect, but once to have known is always
-to love it, no matter how far one wanders or how fair new regions open
-before one’s eyes. Its changing seasons, its rugged hills and tumbling streams,
-its winding roadways, its villages and little farms, cling in the memory and
-sing siren songs of enticement. Nature is sometimes harsh, but she has
-many moods, and nowhere more than here; and if harsh sometimes, she is
-at other times exceeding sweet. In cold or heat, storm or sunshine, New
-England’s rough fields are still the true Arcadia to her sons and daughters.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span></p>
-
-<h2 id="PART_III">PART III<br />
-
-<span class="medium">NEW ENGLAND AS THE TRAVELLER SEES IT</span></h2>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_057a" src="images/i_057a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A HORSE-CHESTNUT MAN</p></div>
-
-<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">To</span> really see and know New England one must leave the railroads
-and take time for a long tramp or drive. Railroads are only
-intended to link together the cities and larger towns, and they
-seek the level and monotonous for their routes, and pursue
-always as straight and prosaic a course as circumstances
-will admit. The view from the windows of ragged banks
-of earth or rock, where a path has been cut through a
-hill, or of the sandy embankments, where a hollow has
-been filled, and of pastures, swamps, and stumpy, brushy
-acres, where the timber has lately been cut off, are often
-dismal. At the same time the real country as seen
-from the winding, irregular roadways that link the
-villages and scattered farms together may be quite
-cheerful and pleasing.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_057b" src="images/i_057b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AFTERGLOW</p></div>
-
-<p>With the purpose of seeing the real New England in its highways
-and byways, its hills and valleys,
-its nooks and corners, I
-started out one autumn day
-on a buckboard. I had a
-little bay horse, fat and good-natured,
-quite content to stop
-as often and long as I chose,
-and to busy herself nibbling
-the grass and bushes by the
-roadside, while I sketched or
-photographed. She had a
-decided disinclination for fast
-travelling, and wanted to walk
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span>
-as soon as a hill came in sight. But I wished to go slowly in the main,
-and we got along very agreeably, though at times I fear my remarks and
-hints to the creature between the shafts were not complimentary or pleasing
-to that animal. Houses where one could get a lunch at noon were not
-always handy, and I took the precaution to carry along some eatables for
-myself and a few feeds of oats for the horse.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_058" src="images/i_058.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE VILLAGE CHURCH</p></div>
-
-<p>It was nine o’clock when I left Old Hadley in Central Massachusetts
-and turned northward up the valley. A cold wind was blowing, and many
-gray cloud-masses were sailing overhead. The region about was one of the
-fairest in New England,&mdash;a wide, fertile valley basin stretching twenty miles in
-either direction. The Connecticut River loops through it with many graceful
-curves, and blue ranges of hills bound it on every side. At intervals of
-about ten miles on this level you come upon the few scores of houses,
-which cluster about the churches at the centre of the towns, and there are
-many little hamlets where are lesser groups of homes.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span></p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_059a" src="images/i_059a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ONE OF THE HUMBLER HOUSES</p></div>
-
-<p>I was jogging across
-some meadows, when I came
-to a few houses flanked by
-numerous out-buildings and
-half hidden by the trees about
-them. Some children were by
-the roadside. They had rakes
-and a big basket, and were
-intent on gathering the maple
-leaves which carpeted the
-ground. They stopped to
-watch me as I approached.</p>
-
-<p>“Take my picture,”
-cried a stout little girl, and then threw the basket over her head and struck
-an attitude.</p>
-
-<p>“All right,” was my reply.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh!” she said, “I want my cat in,” and raced off to the house
-to secure it.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_059b" src="images/i_059b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A DESERTED HOME</p></div>
-
-<p>She was no sooner back and in position than she found a new trouble.
-She had on a little cap with a very narrow visor, and as the sun had now
-come out, its bright light made her eyes wink. Suddenly she spoke up
-and said the little cap made her cry, and wanted to get a hat, if I
-would let her. When she returned I made haste to snap the camera before
-any other ideas could occur to her. We were pretty well acquainted by
-the time I finished, and she
-wanted to know how much I
-charged for my picture, and
-said she guessed she would
-get one if I came that way
-again.</p>
-
-<p>The town of Sunderland
-lay a little beyond. It is a
-typical valley town, with a
-long, wide street lined by
-elms and maples, thickset on
-either side by the white
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span>
-houses of its people. Everything looked thrifty and well kept. The wind
-blew gustily, and sometimes would start the leaves which had just begun to
-strew the ground beneath and send
-windrows of them scurrying along
-the road like live armies on a
-charge.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_060a" src="images/i_060a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">GETTING A LOAD OF SAWDUST BACK OF THE SAW-MILL</p></div>
-
-<p>I was in the village in the
-late afternoon, when school let out.
-It was interesting to note the way
-the boys came down the street
-slamming about, shouting, and tripping
-each other up. It seemed to
-me there was one sort of youngster
-who had need to reform. You find this variety in every village where
-half a dozen boys can get together. He talks in a loud voice when any
-witnesses or a stranger is about, is rude to his fellows, jostles them and
-orders them about, cracks crude jokes, either exceedingly pointless, or else of
-great age and worn threadbare, at which
-he himself has to do a good share of the
-laughing. He is, in short, showing off,
-and the show is a very poor one. He
-makes himself both disagreeable and ridiculous
-to most, and can only win admiration
-from a few weak-minded companions or
-overawed small boys.
-He is apt to grow
-into something of a
-bully among those
-weaker than himself,
-and to become, when
-older, a young man
-with a swagger.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_060b" src="images/i_060b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A MEADOW STREAM</p></div>
-
-<p>It was October,
-the days were short,
-and I had early to seek a stopping-place for the night. It still lacked
-something of supper-time when I put my horse out at one of the farm-houses,
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span>
-and I took the opportunity for a walk on the village street. The
-damp gloom of evening had settled down. There were lights in the windows
-and movements at the barns, and a team or two was jogging homeward
-along the road. Westward, in plain sight across the river, was the heavy
-spur of a mountain, dark against the evening sky. A single little light was
-trembling on the summit of the crag. This came from a building known
-as “the prospect house.” The proprietor lives there the year around, and
-from Sunderland’s snug street, on cold winter nights, the light is still to be
-seen sending out shivering rays into the frosty darkness.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_061" src="images/i_061.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A HOME UNDER THE ELMS</p></div>
-
-<p>I returned presently to the house and had supper. That finished, the
-small boy of the family brought a cup of boiled chestnuts, and while we
-munched them, explained how he had picked up eighty-one quarts of nuts
-so far that year. In his pocket the boy had other treasures. He pulled
-forth a handful of horse-chestnuts, and told me they grew on a little tree
-down by the burying-ground.</p>
-
-<p>“The boys up at our school make men of ’em,” he said. “They
-take one chestnut and cut a face on it like you do on a pumpkin for a
-jack-o’-lantern. That’s the head. Then they take a bigger one and cut
-two or three places in front for buttons, and make holes to stick in
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span>
-toothpicks for legs, and they stick in more for arms, and with a little short
-piece fasten the head on the body. Then they put ’em up on the stove-pipe
-where the teacher can’t get ’em, and they stay there all day. Sometimes
-they make caps for ’em.” He got out his jack-knife and spent the
-rest of the evening manufacturing these queer little men for my benefit.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_062" src="images/i_062.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A DOOR-STEP GROUP</p></div>
-
-<p>The next morning I turned eastward and went along the quiet,
-pleasant roads, now in the woods, now among pastures where the wayside
-had grown up to an everchanging hedge of bushes and trees. Much of
-the way was uphill, and I sometimes came out on open slopes which gave
-far-away glimpses over the valley I had left behind.</p>
-
-<p>About noon I stopped to sketch one of the picturesque watering-troughs
-of the region. There was a house close by, and a motherly looking
-old lady peeked out at me from the door to discover what I was up
-to. I asked if I might stay to dinner. She said I might if I would
-be content with their fare, and I drove around to the barn. An old gentleman
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span>
-and his hired man were pounding and prying at a big rock which
-protruded above the surface right before the wagon-shed. They had blasted
-it, and were now getting out the fragments. By the time I had my horse
-put out, dinner was ready, and we all went into the house. We had “a
-boiled dinner,”&mdash;potatoes, fat pork, cabbage, beets, and squash all cooked
-together. The dish was new to me, but I found it quite eatable.</p>
-
-<p>I was again on the road, jogging comfortably along, when I noticed
-two little people coming across a field close by. They walked hand in
-hand, and each carried a tin pail of apples. The boy was a stout little
-fellow, and the girl, a few sizes smaller, very fat and pudgy and much
-bundled up. I told them I’d like to take their pictures. They didn’t know
-what to make of that; but I got to work, and they stood by the fence
-looking at me very seriously. I was nearly ready when a woman from the
-doorway of a house a little ways back called out, “Go right along, Georgie!
-Don’t stop!” I told her I wanted to make their photographs&mdash;it wouldn’t
-take but a minute. She said they ought to be dressed up more for that.
-But I said they looked very nice as they were, and hastened to get my
-picture. Then the two went toddling on. The boy
-told me there was a big pile of apples back there;
-also, as I was starting away, that his father had just
-bought a horse.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_063" src="images/i_063.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A ROADSIDE FRIEND</p></div>
-
-<p>I took the sandy long hill way toward Shutesbury,
-a place famous for miles about for its
-huckleberry crops. It is jokingly said that
-this is its chief source of wealth, and the
-story goes that “One year the huckleberry
-crop failed up in Shutesbury, and the people
-had nothin’ to live on and were all comin’
-on to the town, and the selectmen were so
-scared at the responsibility, they all run
-away.”</p>
-
-<p>The scattered houses began to dot the way as I proceeded, and after
-a time I saw the landmarks of the town centre&mdash;the two churches, perched on
-the highest, barest hilltop eastward. The sun was getting low, and chilly evening
-was settling down. Children were coming home from school; men, who had
-been away, were returning to do up their work about the house and barn
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span>
-before supper, and a boy was driving his cows down the street. I hurried
-on over the hill and trotted briskly down into the valley beyond, but it
-was not long before the road again turned upward. The woods were all
-about. In the pine groves, which grew in patches along the way, the ground
-was carpeted with needles, and the wheels and horse’s hoofs became almost
-noiseless. There were openings now and then through the trunks and leafage,
-and I could look far away to the north-east, and see across a wide
-valley the tree-covered ridges patched with evergreens, and the ruddy oak
-foliage rolling away into ranges of distant blue, and, beyond all, Mount
-Monadnock’s heavy pyramid. The sun was behind the hill I was climbing,
-and threw a massive purple shadow over the valley. Beyond, the ridges
-were flooded with clear autumn sunlight. Far off could be seen houses, and
-a church now and then&mdash;bits of white, toy-like, in the distance. The eastward
-shadows lengthened, the light in the woods grew cooler and grayer,
-and just as I was fearing darkness would close down on me in the woods,
-I turned a corner and the hill was at an end. There were houses close
-ahead, and off to the left two church steeples.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_064" src="images/i_064.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">BETTER THAN HOEING ON A HOT DAY</p></div>
-
-<p>This was New Salem. The place had no tavern, but I was directed
-to one of the farm-houses which was in the habit of keeping “transients.”
-There was only a boy at home. His folks were away, and he had built a
-fire in the kitchen and was fussing around, keeping an eye on the window
-in expectation of the coming of the home team. It arrived soon after,
-and in came his mother and sister, who had been to one of the valley
-towns trading and visiting. The father was over at “the other farm,” but
-he came in a little later. Mrs. Cogswell told of the day’s happenings, and
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span>
-how she had found a knife by the roadside. It was “kind of stuck up,”
-and she said she would bet some old tobacco-chewer owned it. However,
-Mr. Cogswell, having smelt of it, guessed not.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_065" src="images/i_065.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">JULY</p></div>
-
-<p>His wife now brought in a blanket she had bought at the “Boston
-Store,” and we all examined it, felt of it, and guessed what it was worth.
-Then she told what she paid, and how cheap she could get various other
-things, and what apples would bring.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_067" src="images/i_067.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE PET OF THE FARM</p></div>
-
-<p>As we sat chatting after supper, Mr. Cogswell took out his watch and
-began to wind it. It was of the Waterbury variety, and winding took a
-long time, and gave him a chance to discourse of watches in general, and
-of this kind in particular. Frank had such a watch, he said, and he took
-it to pieces and it was about all spring.</p>
-
-<p>“You never saw such a thing,” said Mrs. Cogswell. “Why, it sprung
-out as long as this table.”</p>
-
-<p>“Ho, as long as this table!” said Mr. Cogswell; “it would reach ’way
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span>
-across the room.” He said his own watch kept very good time as a general
-thing, only it needed winding twice a day.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_068" src="images/i_068.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A RAINY DAY</p></div>
-
-<p>I was out early the next morning. The east still held some soft rose
-tints, streaks of fog lingered in the valley, and the frost still whitened the
-grass. After breakfast I went northward, down through the woods and pastures,
-into Miller’s valley. I followed a winding ravine in which a mountain
-brook went roaring over its uneven bed toward the lowland. I came into
-the open again at the little village of Wendell Depot. It was a barren
-little clearing, I found, wooded hills all about, a railroad running through,
-several bridges, and a dam with its rush and roar of water; a broad pond
-lay above, and below, the water foamed and struggled and slid away beneath
-the arches of a mossy stone bridge, and hurried on to pursue its winding
-way to the Connecticut. There was a wooden mill by the stream-side. It
-was a big, square structure with dirty walls and staring rows of windows.
-No trees were about, only the ruins of a burned paper-mill, whose sentinel
-chimney still stood, a blackened monument of the fire. There were a few
-of the plain houses built by the mill for its help, a hotel, some sand-banks,
-a foreign population, a dark, hurrying river, the roar of a dam, long lines of
-freight-cars moving through, and grim hills reaching away toward the sky.</p>
-
-<p>From here I went westward, and in the early afternoon crossed the
-Connecticut River and began to follow up the valley of the Deerfield. I
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span>
-had to go over a big mountain ridge, but after that had comparatively level
-travelling. I went on till long after sunset, and presently inquired of a man
-I met walking if there were houses on ahead. He said Solomon Hobbs
-owned the nearest place, and lived up a big hill a ways off the main road.
-A little after I met a team, and concluded to make more definite inquiry.
-“Can you tell me where Mr. Hobbs lives?” I asked.</p>
-
-<p>“Who, John?” he questioned as he pulled in his horse.</p>
-
-<p>“No, Solomon,” I replied.</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, er, Solly! He lives right up the hill here. Turn off the next
-road and go to the first house.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_069" src="images/i_069.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A HAMLET AMONG THE HILLS</p></div>
-
-<p>It was quite dark now, and when I came to the steep, rough rise of
-the hill I got out and walked and led the horse. In time I saw a light
-on ahead, and I drove into the steep yard. I had my doubts about stopping
-there when I saw how small the house and barn were. A man responded
-to my knock on the door and acknowledged to the name of Solomon Hobbs.
-He was a tall, broad-shouldered, long-bearded farmer, apparently about fifty
-years of age. He had on heavy boots and was in his checked shirt-sleeves.
-He didn’t know about keeping me overnight, but their supper was
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span>
-just ready, and I might stay to that if I wanted to. He directed me to
-hitch my horse to a post of the piazza and come in. On a low table was
-spread a scanty meal. Codfish was the most prominent dish on the board.
-After eating, I was ushered into the little parlor, for they had certain pictures of
-the scenery thereabout they wished me to see. Mr. Hobbs brought along his
-lantern and set it on the mantel-piece. It remained there though Mrs. Hobbs
-came in and lit a gaudy hanging-lamp. She was a straight little woman
-with short hair, rather curly and brushed up, wore earrings, did not speak
-readily, and acted as if her head did not work first-rate. The little boy,
-who was the third member of the family, came in also. There was an iron,
-open fireplace with charred sticks, ashes, and rubbish in it. The carpet on
-the floor seemed not to be tacked down, and it gathered itself up in bunches
-and folds. The sofa and marble-topped centre-table and many of the chairs
-were filled with papers, books, boxes, and odds and ends.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_070" src="images/i_070.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">SUMMER SUNLIGHT IN A “GORGE ROAD”</p></div>
-
-<p>There was some doubt as to where the pictures were, and it required
-considerable hunting in books and albums and cupboards and boxes and top-shelves
-to produce them. I did not notice that they put up any of the things
-they pulled down. Mr. Hobbs said of his wife that she had been in poor
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span>
-health for a year past, and hadn’t been able to keep things in order. When
-I had examined the pictures I got ready to start on. Mr. Hobbs said there
-was a hotel a mile up the road. I unhitched my horse, and the little boy,
-with a lantern, ran before me and guided me through the gateway.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_071" src="images/i_071.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ONE OF THE LITTLE RIVERS</p></div>
-
-<p>At the hotel, when I had made the horse comfortable in the barn I
-betook myself to the bar-room, where a brisk open fire was burning. A number
-of men were loafing there, most of them smoking. One was a tall, stout-figured
-man who was always ready to back his opinion with a bet of a
-certain number of dollars, and quoted knowledge gained a year when he was
-selectman to prove statements about the worth of farms.</p>
-
-<p>The proprietor of the place was a young man, with small eyes rather
-red with smoke or something else, a prominent beaklike nose, a mustache,
-and receding chin. He had an old, straight, short coat on, and he had thin
-legs, and looked very much like some sort of a large bird. He had a very
-sure way of speaking, and emphasized this sureness by the manner in which
-he would withdraw his cigar, half close his little eyes, and puff forth a thin
-stream of tobacco smoke.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span></p>
-
-<p>In the morning I was out just as the sun looked over some cloud
-layers at the eastern horizon and brightened up the misty landscape. I left
-the hotel, and soon was on my way up the Deerfield River into the mountains.
-It was a fine day, clear at first, and with many gray clouds sailing
-later. I jogged on up and down the little hills on the road which kept
-along the winding course of the river. All the way was hemmed in by
-great wooded ridges which kept falling behind, their places to be filled by
-new ones at every turn. The stream made its noisy way over its rough
-bed, and every now and then a freight train would go panting up the grade
-toward the Hoosac Tunnel, or a passenger train in swifter flight would sweep
-around the curve and hurry away to the world beyond.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_072" src="images/i_072.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE VILLAGE GROCERYMAN</p></div>
-
-<p>A little off the road in one place was a log house, a sight so unusual
-in old Massachusetts that such rare ones as one may come across always
-have a special air of romance and interest about them. This had a pleasant
-situation on a level, scooped out by nature from the lofty ridge which over-shadowed
-it. It was made of straight, small logs, laid up cob-fashion, chinked
-with pieces of boards and made snugger with plaster on the inside. It had
-a steep roof of overlapping boards, through which a length of rusty stove-pipe
-reached upwards and smoked furiously. There was a spring before the
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span>
-door, which sent quite a little stream of water through a V-shaped trough
-into an old flour-barrel. There were some straggling apple-trees about, and
-behind the house a little slab barn. Inside was a bare room, floored with
-unplaned boards. There was a bed in one corner, a pine table in another,
-and a rude ladder led to a hole in the upper flooring, where was a second
-room. The only occupant then about was cooking dinner on the rusty
-stove. Light found its way through two square windows and through certain
-cracks and crevices in the wall.</p>
-
-<p>I followed the rapid river, on, up among the wild tumble of mountains
-which raised their gloomy rock-ribbed forms on every side. The regions
-seemed made by Titans, and for the home of rude giants, not of men.
-Presently a meadow opened before me, and across it lay the little village of
-Hoosac. The great hills swept up skyward from the level, and here and
-there in the cleared places you could see bits of houses perched on the
-dizzy slope, and seeming as if they might get loose and come sliding down
-into the valley almost any day.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_073" src="images/i_073.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AN OUTLYING VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>At the tunnel was a high railroad bridge spanning the river, a long
-freight train waiting, a round signal station, a few houses, and the lines of
-iron rails running into the gloomy aperture in the side of the hill. This
-was in a sort of ravine, and so somewhat secluded and holding little suggestion
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span>
-of its enormous length of over four miles. Some sheep were feeding
-on a grassy hillside just across the track, and looking back upon them
-they made a very pretty contrast to the wild scenery. The hills mounded
-up all about; the sun in the west silvered the water of the rapid river; a
-train waiting below the iron span of the bridge sent up its wavering white
-plume of smoke; and here on the near grassy slope were the sheep quietly
-feeding.</p>
-
-<p>The road wound on through the same romantic wildness; now a
-mountain would shoot up a peak steeper and higher than those surrounding;
-but none of them seemed to have names. As one of the inhabitants expressed
-it, “They are too common round here to make any fuss over.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_074" src="images/i_074.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A VILLAGE VIEW IN A HALF-WOODED DELL</p></div>
-
-<p>In the late afternoon, after a hard climb up the long hills, I passed
-Monroe Bridge, where in the deep ravine was a large paper-mill. The road
-beyond was muddy and badly cut up by teams, and progress was slow. I
-expected to spend the night at Monroe Church, which I understood was three
-miles farther up, but I got off the direct route and on to one of the side
-roads. The sun had disappeared behind the hills and a gray gloom was
-settling down. The road kept getting worse. It was full of ruts and bog-holes.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span>
-Like most of the roads of the region, the way followed up a hollow,
-and had a brook by its side choked up with great boulders. I came
-upon bits of snow, and thought there were places where I could scrape up a
-very respectable snowball.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_075" src="images/i_075.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE OLD WELL-SWEEP</p></div>
-
-<p>After a time I met a team and stopped to inquire the way to the
-church, and the distance. The fellow hailed had a grocery wagon, and no doubt
-had been delivering goods. He seemed greatly pleased by my question; in
-fact, was not a little overcome, showed a white row of teeth beneath his
-mustache, and he quite doubled up in his amusement. He said he did not
-know where the church was; and he guessed I wasn’t much acquainted up
-in these parts; said he wasn’t either. He stopped to laugh between every
-sentence. He apparently thought he was the only man from the outside
-world who ever visited these regions, and now was tickled to death to find
-another fellow had blundered into his district. There was no church about
-there, he said; I must be pretty badly mixed up; this was South Readsboro’,
-Vermont. “This is the end of the earth,” he said. He kept on laughing as
-he contemplated me, and I got away up the road as soon as I could, while
-he, still chuckling to himself, drove down.</p>
-
-<p>The snow patches become larger and more numerous, and soon I
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>
-came into an open and saw a village up the hill. This was October,
-and the sight ahead was strange and weird. The roofs of the buildings were
-white with snow; there were scattered patches of it all about, and a high
-pasture southward was completely covered. It seemed as if I had left realities
-behind; as if in some way I was an explorer in the regions of the far
-north; as if here was a little town taken complete possession of by the frost;
-as if no life could remain, and I would find the houses deserted or the inhabitants
-all frozen and dead. There was a little saw-mill here and some
-big piles of boards; everywhere marks of former life; but the premature frost
-seemed to have settled down like a shroud on all about. I entered the
-village and found a man working beside a house, and learned from him
-that I had still three miles to travel before I came to the church.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_076" src="images/i_076.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">IN HAYING TIME</p></div>
-
-<p>I took a steep southward road and led the horse, with frequent rests,
-up the hills. Darkness had
-been fast gathering, the sunset
-colors had faded, one
-bright star glowed in the
-west, and at its right a gloomy
-cloud mass reached up
-from the horizon. The neighboring
-fields got more and
-more snow-covered, until the black ribbon of the muddy road was about the
-only thing which marred their whiteness. There were rocky pastures about,
-intermitting with patches of woodland. Here and there were stiff dark lines
-of spruce along the hilltops, and these, with the white pastures, made the
-country seem like a bit of Norway. Snow clung to the evergreen arms of
-the spruces and whitened the upper fence-rails, and the muddy trail of the
-road ceased in the crisp whiteness.</p>
-
-<p>I was going through a piece of woods when I saw a house ahead
-with a glow of light in a window. I went past the friendly light. The
-dreary road still stretched on. No church was in sight, and I drew up and
-ran back to the house. A man came to the back door with a lamp. He
-said it was still two miles to the church, and I asked if I might stay overnight.
-Soon I had my horse in the yard and was comfortably settled by
-the kitchen fire. The kitchen was large, but the long table, the stove, a
-bed, and the other furniture made it rather cramped when the whole family
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span>
-were indoors. There were grandpa, and grandma, and “Hen” and his wife,
-and “Bucky,” and “Sherm,” and “Sis,” and Dan, and little Harry, not
-to mention a big dog and several cats. After supper, grandma fell to
-knitting with some yarn of her own spinning; grandpa smoked his pipe and
-told bear stories; “Hen” mended a broken ramrod so that his gun might
-be ready for a coon hunt he was planning; Mrs. “Hen” sewed; “Sherm”
-and “Bucky” were in a corner trying to swap hats, neckties, etc., and “Sis”
-was helping them; Dan ran some bullets which he made out of old lead-pipe
-melted in the kitchen fire; and Harry circulated all about, and put the cats
-through a hole cut for them in the cellar door, and climbed on the chairs
-along the walls, and picked away the plastering at sundry places where the
-lath was beginning to show through.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_077" src="images/i_077.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE STREAM AND THE ELMS IN THE MEADOW</p></div>
-
-<p>Bedtime came at nine and I was given a little room partitioned off in
-the unfinished second story. In the first gray of the next morning a loud
-squawking commenced outside of so harsh and sudden a nature as to be quite
-alarming to the unaccustomed ear. Later I learned this was the flock of ducks
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span>
-and geese which had gathered about the house to give a morning salute.
-The wind was whistling about, and came in rather freely at the missing
-panes in my window. As soon as I heard movements below I hastened
-downstairs. The two fellows in the bed in the unfinished part adjoining my
-room were still snoozing, and there were scattered heaps of clothing about the
-floor.</p>
-
-<p>There was no one in the kitchen, and though the stove lid was off,
-no fire had yet been started. I heard old Mr. Yokes out in the back room.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_078" src="images/i_078.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">UNDER THE OLD SYCAMORE</p></div>
-
-<p>“’Bout time ye was gettin’ up,” he called to me.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” I said, “I heard you stirring, and thought it must be about
-time to turn out.”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, it’s you, is it? I thought ’twas one of the boys. They didn’t
-bring in no kindlings last night.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_079" src="images/i_079.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AUGUST</p></div>
-
-<p>He sat down by the stove and went to whittling some shavings. He
-had not yet got on either shoes or stockings. One by one the rest of the
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span>
-family straggled in, and the fire began to glow and the heat to drive out
-the frostiness of the kitchen atmosphere. Outdoors the weather was threatening,
-and there were little drives of sleet borne down on the wings of the
-wind. After breakfast I concluded to leave this land of winter and followed
-down one of the steep roads into the autumn region of the Deerfield valley.
-By brisk travelling I succeeded by close of day in getting to the quiet
-meadows along the Connecticut. It had been a five days’ journey. I saw
-only a little patch of New England, and the description is necessarily fragmentary;
-but at least there is presented characteristic phases of its nature and
-life as the traveller on a leisurely journey may see them.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_081" src="images/i_081.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ONE OF THE OLD VILLAGE STREETS</p></div>
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p>
-
-<h2 id="PART_IV">PART IV<br />
-
-<span class="medium">CAMPING AMONG THE NEW ENGLAND HILLS</span></h2>
-
-<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> was a warm night of midsummer. In a secluded hollow of the Green
-Mountain ranges of lower Vermont was pitched a small white tent. A half-moon
-was shining softly through the light cloud-hazes overhead, and had
-you been there, you could have made out the near surroundings without
-much difficulty. Tall woods were all about, but here was a little open
-where grasses and ferns and low bushes grew in abundance, and on a
-chance level of the steep, uneven hillside the campers had pitched their
-tent. In the deep, tree-filled ravine close below was a stream, whence
-came the sound of its fretting among the rocks, and from a little farther
-up the solemn pounding of a waterfall. From the other direction came a
-different sound. It was the gentle clinking of a hammer on an anvil.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span>
-On the farther side of the narrow strip of woods, which shut it from sight,
-was a farmhouse, and it was thence came the sound of hammering.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_082" src="images/i_082.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE HOUSE WITH THE BARN ACROSS THE ROAD</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_083" src="images/i_083.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A WARM SUMMER DAY</p></div>
-
-<p>The tent has two occupants. They are both young fellows, who had
-on the day previous started from their Boston homes for a vacation trip to
-the woods. In the city they were clerks,&mdash;one in a store, the other in
-a bank. The chance that brought them to this particular spot for their
-vacation was this: a school friend of theirs, who was blessed (or perhaps
-otherwise) with more wealth than they, and who was next year to be a
-senior in Harvard, had informed them a few weeks previous that his folks
-were going to the Groveland House for the summer. This, he said, was in
-the centre of one of the prettiest and most delightful regions of all New
-England, and he urged his friends, Clayton and Holmes, to by all means go
-along too. He expatiated on the beauties of the place with such an
-eloquence (whether natural or acquired at Harvard, I know not) that these
-two gave up the idea of a trip they had been planning down the coast
-and turned their thoughts inland.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span></p>
-
-<p>But when they came to study the hotel circular that Alliston gave
-them, and noted the cost of board per week, this ardor received a dampener.</p>
-
-<p>“Phew!” said Holmes, “we can’t stand that. I don’t own our bank
-yet.”</p>
-
-<p>“No, we can’t, that’s a fact,” said Clayton. “I’d want more of a
-raise in my pay than I expect to get for years before I could afford that
-sum. The dickens! I thought these country places were cheap always&mdash;and
-here’s a little place we’ve never heard of that charges more than half
-our big hotels here in Boston.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_084" src="images/i_084.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AT WORK IN HER OWN STRAWBERRY PATCH</p></div>
-
-<p>“Well, we’ve got to give up that idea, then,” Holmes said. “I suppose,
-though, we might find a place at some farmhouse that wouldn’t charge too
-high.”</p>
-
-<p>“The trouble is,” Clayton responded, “that I don’t like to go poking
-off into a region where we don’t know a soul, and take our chances of finding
-a comfortable stopping-place at the right price. Then, you see, it’s
-going to cost like anything getting there&mdash;just the fare on the railroad. I
-don’t know as we ought to have considered the thing at all.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_085" src="images/i_085.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">SEPTEMBER</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span></p>
-
-<p>“I hate to give it up,” said Holmes. “We’ve seen a good deal of
-the shore, but have had hardly a sight of the country. It would be a
-great thing, for a change, to take that trip to Vermont. Now, why couldn’t
-we try camping out? That’s what the youngsters do in all the small boys’
-books I’ve ever read. We’re rather older than the boys who were in the
-habit of doing that sort of thing in the books. But then, you know, that
-may be a good thing. It may have given us a chance to accumulate wisdom
-sufficient to avoid those hairbreadth adventures the youngsters were
-always having. They are good enough to read about, but deliver me from
-the experience.”</p>
-
-<p>“Harry,” said Clayton, “I believe that’s a good idea.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_087" src="images/i_087.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">EVENING</p></div>
-
-<p>The conversation and thinkings necessary to settle the details were
-many and lengthy, and I forbear
-repeating them. The long and
-short of it is that on Monday,
-August 14, in the earliest gray of
-the morning, they were on the
-train that was to carry them to
-the Vermont paradise they had in
-mind.</p>
-
-<p>John Clayton, as luck would
-have it, worked in a dry-goods
-house, and therefore in planning a tent he was enabled to get the cloth for its
-makeup at a trifle above cost. He and Harry made numerous visits to the
-public library on spare evenings and consulted a variety of volumes devoted
-more or less directly to the science of camping out. The amount of information
-they got on the subject was rather bewildering, but they simplified
-it down to a few things absolutely necessary to think of beforehand, and
-concluded to trust to commonsense for solving further problems.</p>
-
-<p>“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” said Harry, who attended
-Sunday-school regularly.</p>
-
-<p>The cloth used for the tent was cotton drilling. John’s mother
-sewed the strips together under his direction, and their landlady allowed
-him to set it up in the little paved square of yard back of the block, and
-there he and Harry gave it a coat of paint to make it waterproof. The
-whole thing did not cost three dollars, and, as the boys said, “It’ll last us
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span>
-a good many seasons.”
-Aside from their tent
-they purchased a small
-hatchet, a ball of stout
-twine, a few nails, a
-lantern, and some tin
-pails, cups, and plates,
-and several knives, forks,
-and spoons.</p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_088" src="images/i_088.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LOAD OF WOOD ON THE WAY UP TO THE VILLAGE</p></div>
-
-<p>It had been a
-question just where their
-camping-place should be.
-“We can’t very well
-pitch our tent in the
-hotel yard,” said Harry.
-“That high-priced proprietor
-wouldn’t allow it, I’m sure; and, besides, we shouldn’t want to.”</p>
-
-<p>Another perusal of the summering-place circular disclosed the fact
-that it gave a list of the attractions of the region about, with certain comments
-thereon. Among the rest was noted a waterfall seventy feet high.
-It was amid surroundings, so the circular said, exceedingly beautiful and
-romantic (whatever that may be). The boys thought that style of place
-would suit them to a T, and Harry, who carried the circular about in his
-pocket, got it out at the bank the next day after this decision was arrived
-at and underscored this waterfall with red ink.</p>
-
-<p>In the late afternoon of August 14th the two were set down, “bag
-and baggage,” at the forlorn little station which was the railroad terminus
-of their journey. To the left was a high sand bluff, half cut away,
-crowned with a group of tall pines. A little up the tracks was a deep,
-stony ravine where a little river sent up a low murmur from the depths.
-This was spanned by a high railroad trestle, and when the train rumbled
-away across it and disappeared around the curve of a wooded slope, the
-boys watched the curls of smoke fade into thin air and felt a bit homesick.
-Beyond was a small freight-house, but no other buildings were in
-sight. It was a little clearing in the midst of the woods. The only path
-leading away was the road, which made a turn about the near sand bluff,
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span>
-and then was lost to sight. At the rear of the depot was a smart stage-coach,
-into which a group of people were being helped by a slick footman.
-This coach was an attachment of the Groveland House. “Were the
-young gentlemen bound for the hotel?”</p>
-
-<p>“No,” said Clayton, “we’re not going to the hotel. Isn’t there any
-other coach?”</p>
-
-<p>“Oh, yes, but that leaves here at two o’clock. It has a long route
-through the different villages, over the hills, delivering the mail and other
-truck. If it waited for the four-thirty train it would hardly get around
-before midnight.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’re much obliged,” said Clayton, and the two went back to the
-front platform and sat down on their baggage.</p>
-
-<p>“We won’t go up to that hotel if we have to pitch our tent here
-on the sand back of the depot,” said John.</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_089" src="images/i_089.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A WATERFALL IN THE WOODS</p></div>
-
-<p>They heard the coach rattle
-briskly away up the road, and the
-depot-master stamping around inside.
-He came out presently, and
-after locking the front door approached
-them. “Expectin’ some
-one to meet ye?” he asked. He
-was a stout figured man, with a
-smooth, round, good-natured face
-that won the boys’ confidence at
-once.</p>
-
-<p>“No,” John said, “we don’t
-know any one about here. We
-came on a little camping trip.
-You see in Boston there are
-horse-cars running every which way
-that take you anywhere you want
-to go, and I s’pose we’ve got so
-used to them that we never thought
-of having any trouble in getting
-to the place we wanted to go to,
-though this is out in the country.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span></p>
-
-<p>“Oh, ye came from Boston, did ye? I kinder thought ye was city
-fellers. Guess ye’ll find horse-cars in these parts about as scarce as hen’s
-teeth&mdash;just about. Whare was ye thinkin’ of goin’, anyhow?”</p>
-
-<p>“We were going to Rainbow Falls.”</p>
-
-<p>“Rainbow Falls? Well, now, you’ve got me. I do’no’ as I ever heared
-of ’em. Where be they?”</p>
-
-<p>Harry whipped out his circular. “Why, here they are,” he said.
-“See! right here under this heading, ‘Nature’s Attractions in the Drives
-about Groveland,’” and he pointed to the line underscored with red ink.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_090" src="images/i_090.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A PANORAMA HILLS AND VALLEYS</p></div>
-
-<p>The station agent set down the two lanterns he had in his hand and
-drew a spectacle case from his vest pocket. “Sho,” said he, when he got
-his glasses adjusted, “‘Rainbow Falls,’ so ’tis. ‘Surroundings exceedingly
-beautiful and rheumatic’&mdash;er, no, it’s <i>ro</i>mantic it says, I guess; the letters
-is blotted a little. Seventy feet high, it says. Well, now, I don’t know what
-that is, unless it’s the falls over at Jones’ holler. The hotel folks have gone
-and put a new-fangled name onto it, I guess. There never’s been any
-‘rainbow’ about it that I’ve ever heared of.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span></p>
-
-<p>“Is it a good place to camp out, should you think?” asked John.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, yes; pretty good, if you like it,” was the reply. “Now, if
-you fellers want to get up there to-night, there’s some houses up the road
-here a few steps, and I presume ye can hire some one to get ya up there
-if ye want to.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_091" src="images/i_091.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A PASTURE GROUP</p></div>
-
-<p>“How far is it?” Harry asked.</p>
-
-<p>“I should say it was five miles or something like that,” said the man;
-and he walked off down the track.</p>
-
-<p>“Now,” said John, “we must wake up. I see no signs of houses,
-but we’ll follow up the road.”</p>
-
-<p>The result was that a short walk brought them to a little group of
-habitations, and they accosted a farmer boy who was weeding in a garden
-and made known their wants. He would take them up, he said, if his folks
-would let him.</p>
-
-<p>“How much would you charge?” asked Harry.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I do’no’,” said the boy. “It’s goin’ to be considerable trouble,
-and it’s a good five miles the shortest way, and hard travellin’, too, some of
-the way. I should think ’twould be worth thirty-five cents, anyhow.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll pay you fifty,” said John, “if you’ll hurry up with your team.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span></p>
-
-<p>“I’ll have to ask ma first,” the boy replied.</p>
-
-<p>He went to the house, and the two outside heard a low-toned conversation,
-and a woman looked out at them from behind some half-closed
-blinds. Then out came Jimmy with a rush and said he could go. He took
-pains to get his hoe from the garden, which he cleaned by rubbing off the
-dirt with his bare foot before hanging it up.</p>
-
-<p>“Have ye got much luggage?” he asked. “’Cause if ye have we
-c’n take the rack wagon. The express wagon’s better, though, if ye haven’t
-got much. That old rack’s pretty heavy.”</p>
-
-<p>The lighter vehicle, which proved to be a small market wagon, was
-plenty large enough, and into that was hitched the stout farm-horse, and
-the three boys clambered up to the seat.</p>
-
-<p>“Git up!” cried Jimmy, cracking his whip, and away they rattled
-down to the depot.</p>
-
-<p>“Now,” said Jimmy, “they’s two ways of gettin’ where you want to
-go, and when you get there they’s two places where you can go to. The
-road over Haley’s Hill is the nearest, but it’s so darn steep I’d about as
-soon drive up the side of a meeting-house steeple.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you’d rather go the other road, I suppose.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, I do’no’; that’s considerable more roundabout.”</p>
-
-<p>“You can do as you please,” said John. “We’ll risk it, if you will.”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess I’ll go over Haley’s Hill, then. But I reckon you fellers’ll
-get shook up some. ’Tain’t much more’n a wood-road, and they’s washouts
-on the downhill parts and bog-holes where its level that they’ve dumped
-brush and stuff into. You’ll have to walk up the steep parts. Don’t you
-want something to eat?” he then asked. “I brought along a pocketful of
-gingerbread, ’cause I knew I shouldn’t get home till after dark. Here,”
-and he pulled out a handful of broken fragments, “better have some.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you,” said John; “but we had a rather late lunch on the
-cars, and I don’t think we’ll eat again till we get the tent pitched. What
-was it you said about there being two places up there we could go to?”</p>
-
-<p>The boy took a mouthful of gingerbread, and when he got the process
-of mastication well under way he responded, “Well, there’s Jules’, and
-there’s Whitcomb’s. Jules’ is on one side of the brook and Whitcomb’s is
-on the other. Jules is the Frenchman, ye know.”</p>
-
-<p>“Which place is best?”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_093" src="images/i_093.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">OCTOBER</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span></p>
-
-<p>“I do’no’ ’bout that. Whitcomb’s is the nearest.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll try the nearest place, I think.”</p>
-
-<p>“I guess we’d better tumble out now,” said the boy. “We’re gettin’
-on to Haley’s Hill, and old Bill’s gettin’ kinder tuckered. Hold on! don’t
-jump out now. I’ll stop on the next thank-you-marm.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_095" src="images/i_095.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A PASTURE GATE</p></div>
-
-<p>He pulled in his steed just as the wheels went over a slight ridge
-that ran across the road, and the three alighted. They were in the dusk of
-a tall wood of beech and birches that was almost gloomy, so thick were
-the trees and so shut out the
-light. The road increased in
-roughness and in steepness,
-and finally the boy at the
-horse’s head called out, “I
-say, I guess you fellers better
-push behind there. Bill can’t
-hardly move the thing, and he
-kinder acts as if he was goin’
-to lay down.”</p>
-
-<p>The campers made haste
-to give their support, and the
-caravan went jolting and panting
-up the slope till the leader let fall the bridle-rein and announced:
-“There, we’re over the worst of it. Now, if I can find a good soft stone
-to set on we’ll rest a minute, and then we’ll fire ahead again, and I’ll get
-ye to Whitcomb’s in less’n no time.”</p>
-
-<p>Jimmy found a bowlder to his mind and began to draw on his stores
-of gingerbread again. The horse nibbled the bushes at the roadside. The
-campers took each a wagon wheel and leaned on that and waited.</p>
-
-<p>“I guess we might get in now,” said the boy, rising and brushing the
-crumbs off his overalls. “It’s pretty rough ahead, but they ain’t much that’s
-steep.”</p>
-
-<p>There were stones and bog-holes to jolt over, but after a little they
-came on to a more travelled way, and presently Jimmy drew in his horse and
-said, “This is Whitcomb’s house right here. That’s his dog at the gate
-barkin’ at us.”</p>
-
-<p>John went to the front door and rapped. He got no response, and
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span>
-concluded from the grasses and weeds that grew about and before it that
-front-door visiting was a rare thing at that house. A narrow, flagged walk
-ran past the corner to the rear. He followed it, and in an open doorway
-of the L found Mr. Whitcomb reading a paper.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_096" src="images/i_096.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A ROAD BY THE STREAM</p></div>
-
-<p>“A friend and myself would like to camp over in your pasture for
-a few days, if you don’t object,” said John.</p>
-
-<p>“All right, go ahead,” said the farmer. “If you behave yourselves, and
-put up the bars after ye so’t the cows won’t git out I ain’t no objections.”</p>
-
-<p>“Thank you,” said John. “We’ll try to do that. Have you milk to
-sell? We’d like to buy a couple of quarts or so a day.”</p>
-
-<p>The man turned his head toward the kitchen. “Ann,” he said, “how
-is that&mdash;can ye spare any?”</p>
-
-<p>A tall, thin-faced woman came to the door. She carried a baby in
-her arms. “I don’t think we have any milk to spare,” she replied. “We
-raise calves, because I ain’t well enough to tend to the milk and make
-butter, and they drink about all we have. And I have two children, and
-the oldest ain’t much more’n a baby, and they have to have some. We’d
-like to accommodate you, but I don’t see how we can.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span></p>
-
-<p>“It’s all right,” John replied; “we will find some other place for our
-milk supply.”</p>
-
-<p>He returned to the team and they drove through a wide, rocky mowing
-lot till they came to a stone wall which was without a break, and entirely
-blocked the way. A pasture lay beyond.</p>
-
-<p>“The falls,” said Jimmy, “are right over in them woods t’other side
-of this pasture. If ’twasn’t for this pesky stone wall I’d drive right over
-there with ye. We’d ‘a’ done better to ‘a’ gone to Jules’. His place is only
-a little ways straight over here, but it’s a mile and more by the road.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, we’ve travelled far enough for one day,” said Harry. “Let’s
-get our tent over into the pasture and pitch it there.”</p>
-
-<p>“Agreed,” said John. “The sky has been cloudy all the afternoon,
-and it looks more like rain than ever now. I shan’t feel easy till we get
-a roof over our heads.”</p>
-
-<p>They tumbled their bundles over the fence and made their driver
-happy with a half-dollar, with which he drove whistling away. He, however,
-informed them that “he guessed likely he’d get up to see ’em in a few
-days, if they didn’t get sick of camping before that and clear out.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_097" src="images/i_097.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AT THE PASTURE GATE</p></div>
-
-<p>The campers dragged their bundles over to a low beech-tree a few
-rods distant, and beneath its spreading branches proceeded to erect their
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span>
-tent. Poles and pegs they cut in a thicket near by. Their chief trouble
-was the lack of a spade to make holes for the end poles in the hard
-earth. But they made the hatchet do the work, though the fine edge they
-had taken pains to put on it before leaving Boston disappeared in the
-process.</p>
-
-<p>After the tent was up they got their things into it and spread their
-bedding. The next thing was to hunt up a spring to serve as a water-supply.</p>
-
-<p>“You get out a lunch,” said John. “and I’ll fill this tin pail with water.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_098" src="images/i_098.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE SHEEP PASTURE</p></div>
-
-<p>That was easier said than done. He stumbled about in the dusk
-over the rough pasture-land with its tangle of ferns and hardhack bushes, and
-the best he could do was to get a couple of pints of fairly clean water
-from a rocky mud-hole. Afterward he scooped the hollow deeper with his
-hands, hoping it would soon fill with clear water.</p>
-
-<p>At the tent Harry had the lunch spread and had lit their lantern.</p>
-
-<p>“Do you know what time it is?” he asked. “It’s half-past eight.
-If we’d had any farther to go we’d have been in a fix. Is that all the
-water you could get? I’m dry as a desert.”</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll get more after supper,” said John. “I’ve tumbled half over the
-pasture and I can’t find anything but bog-holes.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_099" src="images/i_099.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A QUIET POND</p></div>
-
-<p>After eating, both went out, Harry with the lantern, John with two
-pails. The clouds overhead had thinned and the stars twinkled through in
-places. The lantern with its two attendant figures went zigzagging over the
-lonely pasture waste to the water-hole. It had not yet cleared, but they
-skimmed off enough with a pail-cover to slake their thirst. They did not
-say much as they wended their way back to the tent, but both had the
-feeling that camping out was proving a rather severe experience of pioneering.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m dead tired,” said Harry, as he flung himself down on the
-bedding inside. “Let’s turn in for the night.”</p>
-
-<p>A few minutes later Farmer Whitcomb, glancing across the fields, saw
-the soft glow of the lantern through the canvas walls of the tent disappear,
-and remarked, “Well, they get to bed early for city folks, but I’ve always
-thought myself nine o’clock was about the right time.” He cleared his
-throat, looked up to the sky to get a hint of to-morrow’s weather prospects,
-and went in and locked the door. Soon his light, too, was out.</p>
-
-<p>The last sound the campers heard was the wind fluttering through
-the beech leaves in the tree above. It was a great change from the city
-noises and surroundings with which they were familiar.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span></p>
-
-<p>On the following morning the campers were out at sun-up. Harry
-went over to their particular mud-hole and succeeded in scooping up a pailful
-of water, but he had not gone five steps before his foot slipped on a
-dewy hummock and the pail went flying. He returned to the original source
-of water-supply, but there was no chance of getting more just then, and the
-result was he wended his way across the fields and filled his pail at the
-Whitcomb well-sweep.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_100" src="images/i_100.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">HUSKING-TIME</p></div>
-
-<p>“It’s no use,” he said on his return, “we’ve got to get nearer water.
-If matters go on as they’ve begun we’ll waste half our vacation over this
-one thing.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, we’ll look around after breakfast.” said John. “I’ve been
-trying to make a fire, but everything’s so soaked with dew you can’t make
-anything burn. I wonder if they always have such dews up here. It’s just
-as if we’d had a heavy rain. We’ll have to get in our firewood the night
-beforehand.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a cold bite again this morning, is it?” said Harry. “I tell you,
-we’ve got to study up this matter. We must reform some way. Why, we’re
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span>
-getting right down to barbarism. By the way, how d’you sleep last
-night?”</p>
-
-<p>“First-rate,” John replied; “don’t remember a thing, only I feel a
-little sore in spots this morning.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s it,” said Harry; “same way with me. Feel’s if I’d had
-a good licking. Now, see here.” He rolled down the bedclothes and
-exposed the ground. “See those humps? There’s a stone sticking up. Here’s
-another. There’s a stub where some little tree has been cut off, and there are
-several sticks and natural hummocks of the earth thrown in besides. Why,
-the worst savage, unless he was drunk, would be ashamed to use such
-a bed.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said John. “let us be thankful that we’ve come through the
-thrilling experiences that we have so far met with alive; to-day we’ll hustle
-around and find a new camping-ground, and in the future we’ll live in
-a style properly becoming to our dignity as members of Bostonian civilization,
-etc. But, come now, you’ve been regarding that bed of torture long
-enough. Trials past are only so many myths and shadows. At any rate,
-that’s what Solomon or some other wise fellow has said. What you want
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span>
-to do is to fortify yourself for trials to come. Supposing we go over and
-see this Jules after breakfast.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_101" src="images/i_101.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW</p></div>
-
-<p>“I found out how to get there from our landlord when I went over
-for water,” said Harry. “There’s a side road that leads down to a little
-grist-mill just above here, and at the mill there’s a foot-bridge across the
-stream.”</p>
-
-<p>“Good!” said John; and after breakfast our campers went down to
-the mill, which, with the placid pond above, was completely closed in by
-the green masses of the forest. It was a gray little building, with mossy
-shingles, and broken windows and doors. There were boards missing here
-and there from its sides, and it was so old and rude it seemed a wonder
-it did not slide down the precipice it half overhung. It had not been
-used for some time&mdash;that was plain. Below it was a steep, irregular fall
-of rocks over which thin streams of water were tumbling. Across the
-ravine, at the summit of the cliff, was a low dam; but it leaked badly, and
-the water did not reach its top by some inches. Midway in the stream,
-at the dam, was a rocky island where grew a few stunted pines. A foot-bridge
-crossed to it from a lower door of the mill. Thus it was necessary
-to climb to the top of the island cliff, where another bridge swung high up
-over the narrow ravine to the farther shore.</p>
-
-<p>The boys poked about the mill and the pond for some time and then
-crossed the bridges. But they were no sooner across than John exclaimed,
-“How that thing did sway and crack! I’d walk ten miles before I’d cross
-that rotten plank again.”</p>
-
-<p>“So would I,” said Harry. “It fairly made my hair stand on end.
-A fellow wouldn’t be good for much after he’d tumbled down into a
-ravine as deep and rocky as that, I guess. The waterfall must be close by
-here. I can hear it. But let’s hunt up Jules first. His last name is La
-Fay, so Whitcomb said.”</p>
-
-<p>A faintly marked path led away through the woods, and the two
-followed it. Some distance beyond it opened into a highway. They saw
-no signs of habitations, but they followed the road until they met an ox-cart.</p>
-
-<p>“Can you tell us where Mr. La Fay lives?” asked John of the
-young man who was guiding the slow team.</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said he, “you take a narrer little road that turns off into
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span>
-the woods down here a piece. You don’t live round in these parts, do
-ye?”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_103" src="images/i_103.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">NOVEMBER</p></div>
-
-<p>“No,” replied John.</p>
-
-<p>“I don’t belong around here either, and I’m mighty glad of it.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” John asked.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s so darn lonesome. That’s what’s the matter. Nothin’ but woods,
-with now and then a farm kinder lost in it. Nothin’ goin’ on. Everything
-draggin’ along slow as this old ox-team. I’ve hired out to Deacon Hawes
-for the season, but I shan’t stay more’n my time out. You’re campin’ up
-round here, ain’t ye? Allen’s boy brought ye up last night, so I heard.
-Mebbe I’ll drop in and see ye this evenin’. We’ve got some sweet-corn
-just ripenin’ down at the place that might taste good to ye.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_105" src="images/i_105.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">THE VILLAGE ON THE HILL</p></div>
-
-<p>The campers told him they would be glad to see him, and said
-that they expected to be near La Fay’s, at the falls. They took the road
-he had indicated. It led through a dense young forest. The trees interwove
-their branches overhead so closely that the sunshine with difficulty
-penetrated the foliage to fleck the damp depths below with its patches of
-light. A short walk brought them out of the woods into a good-sized
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span>
-clearing sloping down into a wooded valley. Down the hill was a long,
-squarish house, one end entirely unfinished, and brown with age and decay.
-The rest had at some remote period been painted white. In front was a
-row of maples, beneath which a calf was tied. Opposite the house was a
-weatherworn barn, and behind it a small shed with a chimney at one end.
-The big barn-doors were open, and Mr. La Fay was just rolling out his
-hay-wagon. He was apparently about thirty-five years of age&mdash;a handsome,
-powerfully built man, square headed and strong jawed. He wore a mustache,
-had dark, curly hair, and a pair of clear, gray eyes, which looked straight
-at one and that held sparks which could easily flash into fire. The boys
-stated their errand, and La Fay told them to choose any place they pleased
-for their tent and go ahead. He could furnish them milk, and a horse
-occasionally if they wanted to drive.</p>
-
-<p>“You are close by the falls if you go over there beyond that piece
-of woods.” he said; “and from our hill here you can see half the world.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_106" src="images/i_106.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A MILL IN THE VALLEY</p></div>
-
-<p>He took them out on the ridge beyond the barn. It was indeed a
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span>
-beautiful piece of country&mdash;mowing-lots and orchards and pastures close
-about, a broken valley far below, where a little stream here and there
-glinted in the sunshine, and, bounding the horizon, many great, forest-clad
-hills. Here and there were far-away glimpses of hilltop villages, of which
-La Fay gave them the names and the number of miles they were distant.
-The boys were delighted.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_107" src="images/i_107.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">CLOUD SHADOWS</p></div>
-
-<p>“Now, the way for you fellows to manage,” said Mr. La Fay, “is
-either to take my horse and wagon for your traps, or, if you haven’t got
-too many, to lug them across the stream down here. You’ll find an old
-road and a ford that you can wade across a little below the falls, if
-you’re not afraid of getting your feet wet.”</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll try that way,” said John.</p>
-
-<p>A little yellow dog which had been smelling around now began
-barking over something he had found a few steps down the hill.</p>
-
-<p>“What’s he got now, I wonder,” said La Fay, going toward him.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p>
-
-<p>On the grass lay the remnants of a big turkey, about which the dog
-was sniffing excitedly.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s my gobbler,” said La Fay. “A fox must have got hold of
-him last night. See, back there where all those feathers are scattered about
-is where the fox jumped onto him. That’s where he’d squatted for the
-night. Well, I’ll have that fox one of these days. That little dog can’t be
-beat for tracking. He’s the best dog to start up partridges or hunt rabbits
-or anything of that sort you ever see.”</p>
-
-<p>The boys asked if they might borrow a spade, and while at the
-barn getting it a little girl came running out to them from the house. She
-was perhaps eight or nine years old, a stout, vigorous little person, resembling
-her father closely in features.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s the young one,” said La Fay. “Have you got the dishes
-washed, Birdie?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” she replied, and then stood looking curiously at the
-strangers.</p>
-
-<p>“She does a good share of my housework for me,” La Fay went
-on. “I do the washing and the butter-making myself, and I get a woman
-to help once in a while in baking and mending. I can make as nice
-butter as any woman in this county. Look at my hands. They’re hard,
-but they’re smooth and clean. A farmer’s hands needn’t be rough and
-rusty if he’ll only use soap and water enough, and be particular about it.
-I work as hard on my farm as any man about here, and I’m often up
-half the night blacksmithing, but I don’t believe there’s a man in the town
-can show such hands as those.”</p>
-
-<p>He looked toward the girl once more and continued, “The young
-one’s mother ran away from her home two months ago. I never want to
-set eyes on her again. We didn’t get along over-well together, sometimes.
-She had a temper, and I had a temper. I tell you, I smoke, and I drink,
-and I swear like the Old Nick; but I don’t steal, and I don’t lie, and I don’t
-get drunk. Mary was like me, only there were times when she’d take too
-much drink. Then she’d flare up if I went to reasoning with her. The
-week before she left, she caught up a big meat knife she’d been using
-and flung it at me so savage that if I hadn’t dodged quicker’n lightning
-’twould have clipped my head, sure. It stuck in the wall and the point
-broke off. Well, I must get to haying now; but come round to the house
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span>
-any time. If Birdie or myself ain’t there, you’ll find the key to the back
-door behind the blind of the window that’s right next to it. Go right in
-whenever you please. I know you fellows are honest. I know an honest
-man when I see him. I’d trust you with my pocketbook or anything. I
-don’t care what church you go to, or if you don’t go at all. I can tell
-what a man’s made of by his looks. There’s some folks that I wouldn’t
-want to be on the same side of the fence with. I tell you, money and
-policy count for a great deal in this world, I despise ’em.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_109" src="images/i_109.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A LOG HOUSE</p></div>
-
-<p>He turned to the little girl and said, “Run in and get your hat
-Birdie, we must get in two or three loads before dinner, if we can.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span></p>
-
-<p>The campers with their spade went through the strip of woods La
-Fay had indicated, and found a pretty bit of pasture beyond. The falls were
-in plain hearing in the ravine below, and they found a little level just suited
-for the tent, and not far away a fine spring of clear, cold water. Lastly,
-they noticed that one corner of the lot was a briery tangle of blackberry
-vines that hung heavy with ripe berries. This they thought an undoubted
-paradise&mdash;every delight at their tent door. First they ate their fill of berries,
-and then went down into the hollow. The bed of the stream was strewn
-with great bowlders. Around towered the full-leaved trees. A little above
-was the fall, making its long tumble down a narrow cleft of the rocky wall.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_110" src="images/i_110.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AN EARLY SNOW</p></div>
-
-<p>The boys made a crossing by jumping from rock to rock in the bed
-of the stream. Below, they found the ford and the old road, and went up
-the path and across the pasture to their tent. It was something of a task
-getting their traps over to the new camping-place, but by noon the white
-canvas was again in place and they had dinner. By aid of the spade they
-gave the end poles of the tent a firm setting, and they dug a trench on
-the uphill side of the camp to protect them from overflow in case of rain.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span></p>
-
-<div class="figleft">
-<img id="i_111a" src="images/i_111a.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ON A MOUNTAIN CRAG</p></div>
-
-<p>I will not attempt to more than
-catalogue their doings for the next few
-days. That afternoon they took a long
-tramp to the village to lay in fresh
-food supplies. They returned at dusk,
-and found the young man whom they
-had met with the ox-team that morning,
-at the tent door with a bag of
-sweet-corn. He assisted them in making
-a fire, and they had a grand feast
-for supper. The next day, which was
-Wednesday, they took a long drive
-over the hills to points of interest that
-La Fay told them about. Thursday
-was reserved for a trouting expedition.
-Friday they drove over to the Groveland
-House to see their college friend, Alliston.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, fellows,” he said, “how do you like it?”</p>
-
-<p>“Splendid!” said the campers; “we’re having a grand, good time.
-How do you get along here?”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_111b" src="images/i_111b.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ONE OF THE GREEN MOUNTAIN PEAKS</p></div>
-
-<p>“It’s rather dull times, I think myself,” said Alliston. “We talk,
-and talk, and play
-tennis, and have a
-grand performance every
-day or two over
-a drive or a clambake.
-But half the
-time I think we’re
-making believe we’re
-having a good time
-rather than really
-having it. I have
-an idea, some way,
-that you fellows are
-getting the best of
-it.”
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_112" src="images/i_112.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AMONG THE BIG HILLS</p></div>
-
-<p>Nearly every evening the campers had callers, and in their tramps
-and rides they made many interesting acquaintances. After lights were out
-they usually heard the sound of the hammer and the wheezing of the bellows
-up at La Fay’s little shop beyond the woods.</p>
-
-<p>Saturday morning came. The campers were still in bed, but they
-were awake. It had been a very hot night.</p>
-
-<p>“Poke your head out, will you, Harry, and see what the weather’s
-going to be,” said John.</p>
-
-<p>Harry loosed a tent flap and looked out. “The sun’s shining,” he
-said, “but the west is full of clouds and looks like a shower.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, let’s not hurry about getting up. If we take the noon train
-for Boston we shan’t get home much before midnight, and we may as well
-take it easy now.”</p>
-
-<p>They continued napping. Half an hour later a gloom as of approaching
-night settled down over the landscape, and there was a threatening
-grumble of thunder in the skies. The waterfall in the hollow took on
-a strange wailing note, rising and falling with the wind, and the rustling of
-the leaves of the near woods seemed full of premonitions. The air began
-to cool and little puffs of wind began to blow, and the boys turned out
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span>
-and poked around getting breakfast. Then came some great scattering
-drops of rain, followed by a mighty crash of thunder and a dazzling flash
-of lightning that seemed to open the flood-gates of heaven, and the rain
-came down in sheets. The air took on a sharp chill, and the boys got on
-their overcoats. The wind increased in force and shook the tent menacingly
-with its mad gusts. The flashing of the lightning and the heavy roll
-of the thunder were almost continuous, and through it all sounded the hollow
-mourning of the waterfall.</p>
-
-<p>“I tell you,” said Harry, as he sat crouched on a roll of bedding,
-“I haven’t much confidence in our mansion for such occasions as this.”</p>
-
-<div class="figright">
-<img id="i_113" src="images/i_113.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A DESERTED HUT IN THE WOODS</p></div>
-
-<p>He had hardly spoken when something gave way, and down came the
-tent, smothering him in
-wet canvas. It was some
-moments before the two
-could disentangle themselves.
-They made unsuccessful
-attempts to repair
-the wreck, but finally
-had to be content to prop
-up the ridge-pole so that
-it would shed the rain
-from their belongings,
-while they secured an
-umbrella and scud through
-the storm to the house,
-which they reached half
-drenched.</p>
-
-<p>“The young one”
-was sitting by the kitchen
-window. Her eyes were
-dilated and she looked
-frightened. She had her
-hands folded idly in her
-lap. That was unusual,
-for she was ordinarily
-very busy.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span></p>
-
-<p>“You don’t like these thunder-storms, do you?” said Harry.</p>
-
-<p>Oh, she didn’t mind them, she answered.</p>
-
-<p>“Where’s your father?” Harry asked.</p>
-
-<p>“He went off down to the village before I got up. I guess he was
-going to get some flour.”</p>
-
-<p>“Then you’ve been all alone in this storm,” Harry said.</p>
-
-<p>She did not reply.</p>
-
-<p>A fire was burning in the stove, and the campers hung their wet overcoats
-behind it, and themselves drew chairs to the stove and sat with their
-feet on the hearth. On the table was a pile of unwashed dishes. From
-the large room next to the kitchen came the sound of dripping water.
-There was a great pool on the floor in one place, and two or three pans
-were set about to catch the streams trickling through the ceiling.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_114" src="images/i_114.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">CHARCOAL KILNS</p></div>
-
-<p>“This side of the roof always leaks when it rains hard,” said Birdie.
-“Papa’s going to fix it when he has time. I never seen it rain like it
-does to-day.”</p>
-
-<p>The shower was very heavy, but it did not last long. The clouds
-rolled away, and the sun shone down on the drenched earth from a perfect
-dome of clear, blue sky. Birds sang, and insects hummed and chirruped in
-the grasses, and the breezes shook little showers of twinkling water-drops
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span>
-from the trees. The air was full of cool freshness and sunshine. It seemed
-to give new life and cheer to every living creature. The campers were
-quite gleeful as they ran over to their tent after the storm was well
-past.</p>
-
-<p>“We’ll just hoist the ridge-pole into place,” said John, “and let things
-dry off, and then we’ll pack up.”</p>
-
-<p>The goods inside had escaped serious wetting, but they thought best
-to hang two of the blankets on some neighboring saplings.</p>
-
-<p>“What a racket the water makes down in the gorge,” said Harry.
-“Let’s go down and have a look at it.”</p>
-
-<p>Everything was wet and slippery, and they took off shoes and
-stockings and left them at the tent.</p>
-
-<p>“I declare!” exclaimed John, as they approached the stream, “this
-is a big flood. There’s hardly one of those big bowlders but that the
-water covers clear to the top. How muddy it is! and see the rubbish! A
-man couldn’t live a minute if he was to jump in there. How it does boil
-and tear along!”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_115" src="images/i_115.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">ROUGH UPLANDS</p></div>
-
-<p>“Come on, let’s go up to the dam,” shouted Harry, endeavoring to
-make himself heard above the roaring waters.</p>
-
-<p>He clambered along over the rocks among the trees on the steep
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span>
-bank, but he had no sooner got within seeing distance than he stopped
-short and called excitedly to John close behind him, “It’s gone! It’s gone!
-The whole thing’s washed away,&mdash;dam, and bridge, and mill,&mdash;all gone to
-smash. And see! the gorge at the fall’s all choked up with big timbers.
-See the water spout and splash about ’em.”</p>
-
-<p>It was a grand sight&mdash;the mighty tumble of waters from the precipice
-above, foaming down into the gorge, then broken in the narrow, almost
-perpendicular, chasm into a thousand flying sprays, whence the mists arose
-as from a monster, steaming cauldron. And there the boys saw a rainbow
-which they had looked for in vain before. They stayed nearly an hour,
-fascinated by the turmoil of the flood.</p>
-
-<p>“I suppose we’ve got to think about packing up,” remarked John at
-last, with a sigh.</p>
-
-<p>“It’s a pity we can’t stay around here another week,” said Harry.</p>
-
-<p>They climbed slowly up the wooded bank to the tent, pulled it to
-pieces, rolled all their belongings into snug bundles, put on shoes and stockings
-and went over to the house. As they approached they heard sounds
-of angry dispute. They turned the corner at the barn and stopped. La
-Fay was standing in the kitchen doorway. In the path before him stood a
-woman. She had on a pretty bonnet trimmed with gay ribbons. Over her
-arm hung a light shawl. Her face was thin, and there were blue lines
-beneath her burning black eyes. She stood sharply erect.</p>
-
-<p>“Move on!” thundered La Fay, “and never show yourself here
-again.”</p>
-
-<p>“It’s Mrs. La Fay,” whispered Harry. “She’s come back.”</p>
-
-<p>“Jules! Jules!” said the woman; and then her tones, either of excuse
-or pleading, dropped so low the boys did not catch the words.</p>
-
-<p>“We’d better go back,” suggested John.</p>
-
-<p>“I say I want to hear no more,” Jules continued fiercely. “The
-quicker you get off the premises, the better.”</p>
-
-<p>The woman looked at him in silence a moment, then turned short
-around and walked with quick steps away. La Fay stood frowning, with
-clenched fists, in the doorway. In the farther corner of the kitchen “the
-young one” was crouched in a chair, crying. The boys had turned away,
-but the drama had come to a sudden termination and they approached
-again.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_117" src="images/i_117.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">DECEMBER</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span>
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p>
-
-<p>La Fay saw them. “She’s been back,” he said; “but I’ve sent her
-packing again. She came early this morning while I was away. She was
-here through the storm.”</p>
-
-<p>It was a painful subject, and John hastened to say that they had
-packed up ready to go to the train.</p>
-
-<p>“My horse is out there by the barn hitched into my lumber-wagon,”
-said La Fay, “but I’ll change him into the carryall. I’ll be ready inside of
-ten minutes.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_119" src="images/i_119.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">A PATH IN THE WINTER WOODS</p></div>
-
-<p>“All right, then,” John responded; “we’ve got a little more to do to our
-bundles, and we’ll be over there with them.”</p>
-
-<p>At the edge of the woods they looked up the road leading away
-from the clearing, and just beyond sight of the house they saw the woman
-again. Her arms were about her head, and she was leaning face forward
-against a big chestnut-tree. Once she clasped her hands and gave a sudden
-look upward. Then she resumed the former position.</p>
-
-<p>The boys went down to their camp and did their final packing.
-The sunshine was becoming warmer. The wind was blowing more briskly,
-and it kept the grasses swaying and the leaves of the trees in a perpetual
-glitter of motion. In the aisles of the wood a thrush was chanting its
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span>
-beautiful song. From the hollow sounded the never-ceasing roar of the
-fall.</p>
-
-<p>La Fay appeared, bundles were packed into the carriage, and they
-were off. They had just entered the road leading to the highway, when
-Harry spied a shawl lying at the foot of a tall chestnut. “What’s that?”
-he asked.</p>
-
-<p>La Fay drew in his horse and Harry jumped out and picked it up.
-He handed it to La Fay.</p>
-
-<p>“Why,” said the man, “that’s Mary’s. She must have dropped it.”</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_120" src="images/i_120.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">WINDY WINTER&mdash;ON THE WAY HOME FROM SCHOOL</p></div>
-
-<p>He laid it across his knee and said nothing for a long time. Indeed,
-they were more than half-way to the depot before he spoke more.
-Then he fell to stroking the shawl gently with his right hand and said.
-“Mary ain’t done right. I know it; I know it. Poor girl! she’s had a
-rough time since she’s been away. I don’t know but I ought to have been
-easier with her. And I like her still I don’t get over that, someway. I
-can’t help it. If the past was blotted out, I’d do anything for her.” He
-spoke all this slowly and meditatively.
-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span></p>
-
-<p>Suddenly he straightened up. “Boys,” he exclaimed. “I’ll blot out
-the past so far as I can. I’ll start new, if Mary will. I haven’t been any
-too good myself. I know where she’ll go to-day. I’ll hunt her up on the
-way back.”</p>
-
-<p>With this resolution made he became quite jovial and talked very
-cheerfully all the distance to the depot. “Boys,” said he, as he shook
-hands at parting, “I’m glad you’ve been up here. You’re good fellows. I
-like to talk with you. Birdie, I know, will miss you a good deal, now
-you’re gone. She told me only yesterday, ‘I wish Mr. Clayton and Mr.
-Holmes would stay up here a long time, so I could learn to talk nice, the
-way they do.’ If you ever get around this way again be sure to come and
-see Jules the Frenchman.”</p>
-
-<p>The train rumbled into the station at that moment, and the campers
-hastily bade a last adieu and were off.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-<img id="i_121" src="images/i_121.jpg" alt="" />
-<p class="caption">AFTER A STORM</p></div>
-
-<div class="transnote">
-
-<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3>
-
-<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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-</pre>
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