OUR GUEST BOOK 



fectly content; and to each one we seek to give the 

 kind of recreation that he or she likes the best. 



To some just the woods are enough, the freedom of 

 the place, the liberty of investigation, long mornings 

 or cool afternoons in which to explore and to discover. 

 I have noticed that one of the keenest pleasures I can 

 give a nature-lover is to turn her toward a particular 

 path and then follow quietly behind her. How deli 

 cious to my expectant ears are her little shrieks of de 

 light as she catches a glimpse of a rare wild flower or 

 unremembered plant! One morning in early October 

 I steered my companion, all unconscious, toward the 

 gravel pit. We were talking busily, at least she was, 

 and did not happen to raise her eyes until I stopped 

 as if in interest at her recital, but she never finished 

 that story; she had discovered the autumn crocuses, 

 those precious ghost flowers which carry in their trans 

 lucent cups all the fragrance of the springtime and 

 the memories which lie between. 



One of our happiest guests was a well-known 



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