The Road to Dumbiedykes 



yet ever new, told by the cosy kettle 

 on the evening fire. 



For some time after this farm was 

 taken over by its new proprietors, 

 meals were occasionally served to 

 those whose business took them there 

 in the old dining-room as in the time 

 of the original builder and subsequent 

 owners. And so it chanced that one 

 day I sat a-listening to the kettle sing- 

 ing to itself as I waited to be served. 

 Straightaway I felt myself transported 

 back across the flood of years to a 

 big, old-fashioned kitchen in a farm 

 home far away, where a dear old- 

 fashioned mother held her own delight- 

 ful sway; and the memories that came 

 trooping were of pies and cakes and 

 things such as have not since been made 

 at all for epicures or kings. But food is 

 no longer to be had in this old brick 

 house. Its commissary department is 

 out of commission, probably forever. 



The electric bulb has of course sup- 

 planted the candles and the lamps, 

 [26! 



