I drove away from the mighty smells 

 and sounds of that unfortunate mass of 

 seething life, subjected to the will of a 

 dozen men, Van Anden the worst of 

 the lot. And as we went silently 

 through the sweet cool air, crisp as 

 an October leaf, where a bluebird 

 was twittering a wing-free song on 

 the poplar yonder, where silver-turned 

 willows were gently swaying, and a 

 jolly chipmunk was rippling from log 

 to stone, I wondered whether the New- 

 port girl had really done so wrong after 

 all. 



