OUT-OF-TOWN PLACES 



wool, and during the late autumn months, 

 came the cartage of wood — some eight miles 

 —to a port upon the river, at which four dol- 

 lars per cord was paid for good oak wood, and 

 five for hickory. At present rates of labor, 

 these are sums which would not pay for the 

 cutting and cartage. 



I must not forget the swine — two or three 

 venerable porkers, and in an adjoining pen a 

 brood of young shoats— that would equip 

 themselves in great layers of fat, from the 

 whey during the hot months, and the yellow 

 ears of corn with the first harvesting of Octo- 

 ber. Day after day, through May, through 

 June, came the unwearied round of milking, of 

 driving to pasture, of plowing, of planting; 

 day after day the sun beat hotter on the mead- 

 ows, on the plowland, on the reeking sty; 

 day after day the buds unfolded— the pink of 

 orchards hung in flowery sheets over the scat- 

 tered apple trees; the dogwood threw out its 

 snowy burden of blossoms from the edges of 

 the wood; the oaks showed their velvety tufts, 

 and with midsummer there was a world of 

 green and of silence— broken only by an occa- 

 sional "Gee, Bright!" of the teamster, or the 

 cluck of a matronly hen, or hum of bees, or 

 the murmur of the brook. All this inviting to 



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