A NOVEMBER CHRONICLE. 135 



But what then ? Tastes will differ ; and 

 as for enthusiasm, it is worth more than 

 money and learning put together (so I be- 

 lieve, at least, without having experimented 

 with the other two) as a producer of happi- 

 ness. For my own part, I mean to be en- 

 thusiastic as long as possible, foreseeing 

 only too well that high spirits cannot last 

 forever. 



The sand-hills themselves would have re- 

 paid all our trouble. Years ago this land 

 just back of the beach was covered with 

 forest, while at one end of it was a flour- 

 ishing farm. Then when man, with his 

 customary foolishness, cut off the forest, 

 Nature revenged herself by burying his 

 farm. We did not verify the fact, but ac- 

 cording to the published accounts of the 

 matter it used to be possible to walk over 

 the grave of an old orchard, and pick here 

 and there an apple from some topmost 

 branch still jutting out through the sand. 



Among the dunes we found abundance of 

 a little red, heath-like plant, still in full 

 blossom. Neither of us recognized it, but 

 it turned out to be jointweed (Polygonum 

 articulatum), and made a famous addition 

 to my November flower catalogue. 



