16 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



good-night, and I came over to my own room 

 to write for a little while. 



The fire still burns, softly. From where I 

 sit I can see it glowing in the deep stone fire- 

 place down the length of the big living room, 

 and watch the ruddy, warm shadows on the 

 walls and the high arched ceiling. It's very 

 beautiful. There's a brilliant full moon in 

 mid-heaven. The living-room floor is check- 

 ered with golden light falling through the 

 small square panes of the long doors and win- 

 dows. Looking out, I can see the long, soft, 

 moonlit slope of the land toward the river, a 

 half mile away; and beyond, the full rise of 

 the spring-clothed, mist-crowned Ozark hills. 

 It's very beautiful. One of my windows 

 stands open, and on the slow air the odor of 

 sweetbrier comes in. There's the smell of 

 moist earth, too, and now and then a whiff of 

 the pungent tang of wood smoke from some 

 big brush fires that were set this afternoon. 

 If I listen, I can hear the low chuckle of a 

 brook a little way from the house. 



This is fulfillment. This is the home of our 

 dreams come true, just as we saw it through 

 those eighteen years of waiting. 



