VI 



WE had a diversion in our second winter at 

 Happy Hollow. In November one of the 

 members of the staff of the Saturday Evening 

 Post came out to visit us, on a hunt for "copy." 

 I had done some work for the Post in the days 

 before we took to farming, and the visit was 

 a renewal of old acquaintance. We fooled 

 around the farm and through the woods and 

 over the hills for a few days, talking; we had 

 a brace of young Orpingtons roasted before 

 the big fire; we argued about a number of 

 things. The sum of it was that I undertook 

 to write a little story of our farm and of the 

 fun we'd had in our adventure. 



The story was printed in January of 1910. 

 It was the story of a transplanted townsman 

 who had found for himself some of the world- 

 old happiness of home-making. 



The day that story appeared, letters began 

 coming to us. Within a week they were com- 

 ing by fifties in every mail; in another week 



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