120 IN SILENT WOODS 



"Are there Oak woods on the beach - crest ?" is 

 your thought, I know. Yes, for the sea has eaten 

 its way backward year by year and century by cen- 

 tury, until fresh and salt water meet and mingle, 

 where once were only dry woods, fresh ponds and 

 a river glen. 



Nell well knows the way to this Oak -crowned 

 crest, which, at the high tides of Fall and Spring, 

 is an island. Even in late Summer it is reached at 

 low water only by a soggy strip of road full of 

 deep gullies made by the wagons carrying the 

 heavy loads of damp salt grass back to the upland 

 meadows for drying. 



When we last went on that road, Nell and I, 

 Rose Mallows lined it, Sunflowers almost closed 

 above our heads, Hyacinth Beans climbed over the 

 Alder bushes, and the lovely purple Gerardia bloomed 

 in the ridges between the wheel tracks. Then 

 Mistress Nell wore a mosquito blanket and green 

 boughs in her harness, and her mistress, in turn, 

 was decked with an Asparagus bush upon her head 

 that should have made the haymakers, if they 

 knew enough (which they did not) think that 

 Birnam Wood had missed Dunsinane and was wan- 

 dering through a Connecticut marsh! 



The haymakers only paused and wondered per- 



