THE BUTTERFLY HUNTERS. 35 



and boys. No doubt there was many a jolly wedding in 

 the house, as the daughters, one by one, passed away to 

 other homes. There was sadness there too, for in an old 

 briery cemetery near by there is a gray, moss-covered stone, 



" Sacred to the memory of Mary F n, who departed 



this life June y^ 21, 17 — . Aged 15 years."- After this 

 family were all scattered or dead, the house fell into decay, 

 and finally one stormy Winter night it was blown down. 



" Old Goody Wood told me all this," said Rose ; " and 

 when I go to the cellar hole I always sit down and try 

 to fancy the children playing on the green and the good 

 mother spinning at the sunny open door." 



By this time they had reached the bars at the entrance 

 of the lane. They climbed over, and walked a long way 

 through a shady little road, where the Birches and young 

 Maples brushed them with their branches. After a while 

 they came to a bend in the road, and, turning it, found 

 themselves in an open, grassy space. Here was the cellar 

 hole. It was not very deep, and was all overgrown with 

 luxuriant grass. The bricks from the chimney and some 

 of the stones from the cellar wall were tumbled here and 

 there in heaps. At the side nearest the road lay the large, 

 flat door-stone. 



" I can imagine old General Putnam sitting here," said 

 Rose, " telling stories to all his nephews and nieces about 

 the strange scenes he had passed through." 



