no In Touch with Nature. 



take on a funereal pace, leaving all thought of 

 May-day merriment behind it. 



But let me say where I happen to be, and why. 

 As the sun set yesterday, our wanderings ceased, 

 and, by happy chance, M. and I camped on 

 Windy Bush. What a grandly suggestive name 

 for hot-weather days ! The tent ready, the supper 

 cooked, the camp-fire freshened, we were ready 

 for a moonlight stroll, and by its happily uncertain 

 light, that leaves the imagination to build what it 

 chooses of that our prosy eyes but dimly see, we 

 listened to the charming chatter of the oldest 

 inhabitant ; learned when and by whom the oldest 

 houses were built ; the strange adventures of the 

 " originals," as he called the first settlers ; what 

 was still current of the Indians. He pointed out 

 the mineral spring, a cave dug by the Indians in 

 the hill-side, and showed us where red men were 

 buried ; told so much, indeed, that we felt as if on 

 Windy Bush had always been our home, brought 

 us in touch with Nature, ever kind fortune's 

 goodliest gift. Many an old man of an old 

 neighborhood is an uncut gem of humanity. He 

 had, at least, not rounded out fourscore years for 



