WOODLAND PATHS 



old wheels whirling once more in memory 

 of the miller and his neighbors. 



Farther on I reach the pond shore, and 

 on the narrow ridge which marks the old- 

 time high tide of winter ice pressure, 

 a dry moraine always, though running 

 through marshy land, I strike what must 

 be the oldest trail in this part of the coun- 

 try. Here is a path which was traveled 

 before the time of the Norman conquest, 

 or, for that matter, before Caesar led his 

 victorious legions into Gaul. Here the 

 first Indians trod dry-footed when they 

 went back and forth about the pond in 

 their hunting and fishing, for then, as 

 now, it was a natural causeway. 



To-day a stranger, seeking his way 

 about the pond for the first time, would 

 not fail to find it, and the habitual wood- 

 rover of the region, old or young, knows 



its every turn. Upon this to-day, between 



72 



