i 4 LITERARY PILGRIMAGES 



a tree nearby a great-crested flycatcher sat and 

 seemed to say to himself, " grief, grief." These 

 were the only notes of sorrow that the place held. 

 All else in sky and field, marsh and hillside, 

 seemed to thrill with a gentle optimism, and the 

 hillock itself rested amidst this in a patriarchal 

 peace and simplicity that became it well. Mem- 

 ory of this gentle peace and simplicity lingers 

 long and runs like a tender refrain through the 

 harmony of fragrant, vivid life that marks this 

 lovely section of old Marshfield. 



