._. 



THORNTON 



WHEN the mercury reaches for the ninety 

 mark it is time to stay at home; but 

 when it is climbing up into the eighties 

 and the crickets and the official forecaster agree 

 that it is to be "fair and continued warm," a 

 picnic day in the country seems an inviting pros- 

 pect, and we are likely to turn toward the creek 

 and the woods at Thornton. 



It is a sleepy little country town, where, in 

 early June, the honey-locusts hang their great' 

 white clusters over the walks and roads and fairly 

 drip fragrance, while the bees drone over them in 

 the sunny hours, or the white moths flutter silently 

 in the twilight with the flashing fire-flies to light 

 them. 



Browsing beneath the locust trees are cows that 

 mildly resent our coming, and stretched on the 

 porches of the houses are sleepy dogs that rouse 

 43 



