A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



I pulled the Quaker rocker outside the door, 

 lit my brier-wood pipe, and tried to make myself 

 believe that I felt like Cowper s Selkirk. But the 

 attempt was frustrated by the arrival of Griselle. 

 She came over the northeast pasture hill, in 

 starched muslin, and brought Gabe Hotchkiss 

 with her. Gabe was her uncle a weazened Rip 

 Van Winkle, who would split my wood, haul my 

 supplies once a week, and, if I said so, sleep in 

 my woodshed, and fetch me some trout and dace 

 occasionally from the Cluny milldam, between 

 my cottage and the &quot; Folly.&quot; Against this prac 

 tical and case-hardened rustic Griselle was like a 

 musk pink against a stone heap. I wanted to 

 call her Phyllis, and I believe I have mentioned 

 her in my diary as &quot; Buttermilk and Daisies.&quot; 

 But I soon found out that she had taught dis 

 trict school in winter and played the melodeon 

 in the Reformed Church somewhere. She could 

 come over and get Charlie s breakfast in the 

 morning. Charlie s mark that. Of course 

 Charlie and I were going to run two tables. 

 Having settled this, she abandoned me to Gabe, 

 and went out on the wire grass to make Charlie s 

 acquaintance. 



Finally she insisted on taking Charlie over to 

 the &quot; Folly &quot; and showing him the milldam. In a 

 moment of weakness I consented, and was then 

 thrown upon my own resources for the rest of the 

 day. I tried to fill the time out with petty industry. 

 I got out the few books and arranged them on 

 the shelf; tacked up the photograph of Charlie s 



16 



