An October Outing. 1 59 



in spite of them. Fresh fuel may fright them 

 from my little room. Many are the big chunks 

 I like this word "chunk," though it finds 

 scant welcome in the dictionary big chunks 

 of knotty wood that my neighbors had allowed 

 to remain wheresoever chance had put them 

 that I have gathered and gloried in when they 

 crowned the pile of fagots in the fireplace, and 

 towered above the slender brass posts of the 

 andirons, household fixtures that link me to 

 colonial days. It is all very well for Americans 

 to sniff at genealogical research, as a good 

 many do, and affect indifference to the facts of 

 their family history, but just so far I am un- 

 American, if you choose, for I do care a great 

 deal, and am more proud of the fact that I can 

 sit before grandmother's andirons than if I had 

 sold an essay and bought a new pair. A pleas- 

 ant thought is an enviable possession, and I 

 have many such when facing the open fire. 

 Andirons now play a new part ; they are finger- 

 posts directing backward to days when the axe 

 was more important among tools than it is to- 

 day ; for a hatchet will suffice among saplings. 

 What of the skilled wood-choppers of other 



