Dreams and Disillusion 7 



The disillusioning was complete. We had 

 stayed in New York eleven years, moved 

 twelve times, worn out three sets of house- 

 hold goods, and aided in the revival of the 

 carpet trade, before we found out what 

 ailed us. 



At last we knew that the stamping-ground 

 of the great herd might be a good place 

 for trade, but that God never meant for 

 man to build a home and rear children in it. 



And then the longing for the country life 

 in which we had both been reared came over 

 us with resistless power. The smell of green 

 fields and wild flowers, the breath of the open 

 sea, the music of beautiful waters, the quiet 

 of woodland roads, the kindly eyes of ani- 

 mals we had known, the memory of sun and 

 moon and star long lost in the glare of elec- 

 tric lights, began to call. We sat down in 

 our little narrow parlour, with its cast-iron 

 firelogs and porcelain taper chandeliers, and 

 cried over it all. 



