152 FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 



light breeze gently stirred the leaves, the 

 hot sun blinked through between them, and 

 the heavy air weighed upon the eyelids. 

 The book was closed, feet were thrust out, 

 and the head rested on the back of the 

 chair, while in the debatable land between 

 sleep and waking, thought floated aimlessly 

 among things present and absent, fact and 

 fancy. 



Through eyes half-opened, a little toddling 

 figure in white is seen approaching, with 

 blue eyes and rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 

 &quot; Won t you please get me some Marguer 

 ites ? &quot; &quot; Of course I will, my little one,&quot; 

 and off we go hand in hand, among the 

 daisies. Again the border of dreamland is 

 reached, and then a red head ending in a 

 black nose is thrust into my hand, and the 

 owner thereof manifests a tendency to be 

 all over me at once. &quot; Down, Hover, lie 

 down ! &quot; and with a push the affectionate 

 brute, for whose attentions I fear his mas 

 ter is not sufficiently grateful, is induced to 

 stretch himself out at my feet, breathing 

 heavily in the nervous fashion which the 

 distemper has bequeathed to him. 



Passing along the village street toward 

 the post-office as the day is waning, the 

 reflection from the dry earth makes hot- 



