New Walks in Old Ways 



always waited with an interest and a 

 curiosity quite irrepressible the first 

 premonitory signs. 



One thing I know is true: wherever 

 the walnuts and the beech, the chest- 

 nut and the hickories are most abund- 

 ant, and wherever the corn is heaviest, 

 there you are most certain to see the 

 red folk of the mists at their various 

 tasks or different weird rites. Along 

 a little river that once ran between 

 two wooded banks, just as in the days 

 of Pontiac, past one particular bottom 

 field, I have often seen near the farther 

 shore the dim outlines of long canoes, 

 propelled by dusky paddlers, swiftly 

 on their noiseless way. I always 

 wished I had the courage to hail or 

 halt these apparitions of the night, and 

 ask them to reveal their field and forest 

 secrets, but usually some night bird 

 would sound an eerie warning cry, just 

 at the wrong instant, and my oppor- 

 tunity was gone. Besides, they were 

 never really quite near enough. In- 

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