CHAPTER XXI. 



nature's first paper makers. 



Before snowfall one of the most beautiful walks 

 from the Old Farm leads over the Crum Creek hills to 

 the paper mill of Mr. Lewis Howard. The path 

 threads the meadow by the Cave Stone, crossing 

 Townes' Run, and so over the field along a pleasant 

 lane to the woodland which is, in fact, the east bank of 

 tlie creek. A wagon trail winds through the wood 

 along the verge of the hill and enters the mill road 

 flush upon the creek side. 



The stream in this vicinity is quite sinuous, and cuts 

 its way by a steep channel among the hills which on 

 either side form the banks. These are in many places 

 so abrupt and heavily wooded, that one pushes his way 

 with difficulty through the underbrush. Here is the 

 '• forest primeval ;" here Nature is held in a virginity 

 pure as that which the white man seized from the red 

 Indian's hand. In this wild park Flora holds court, 

 and beneath the boughs of chestnut, oaks, hickory, 

 maple, beech, birch, dogwood and hemlock are gath- 

 ered clumps of laurel, sumach, mammoth ferns, and all 

 the wood plants and wood flowers of the whole region. 



It is a paradise of w-ood insects, too. The large black 

 Pennsylvania carpenter ants march in columns along 



