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diff --git a/old/54695-0.txt b/old/54695-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2c06d77..0000000 --- a/old/54695-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3211 +0,0 @@ -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 - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY *** - -***** This file should be named 54695-0.txt or 54695-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/6/9/54695/ - -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.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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