A JUNE DAY CHAT 



affections and my patronage. Like the veranda 

 it is a shelter which finds general favor during 

 the season when people break free, as much as 

 possible, from conventional trammels and eschew 

 living in houses; but it is, nevertheless, no mere 

 summer harborage, for its hospitality has been 

 tested in times of rain and storm, and has with- 

 stood all but the excessive cold. 



I speak of a tiny, Walden-like hut, visible from 

 a* point just beyond our present halting-place. It 

 nestles down among the vines and flowers, while 

 protecting maple-boughs droop low over its hos- 

 pitable doors and caress its humble roof; but from 

 the window at the back one looks out over wide 

 fields and on beyond the river valley till the sky 

 is met by a long line of wooded hillsides. 



The hut is far enough removed from any 

 dwelling to impress its frequenters with a de- 

 lightful sense of remoteness and solitude ; yet near 

 enough for protection and a certain amount of 

 sociability. I never enter the quiet little cabin 

 without recalling the words of Mr. Hamilton 

 Gibson anent his delightful and comparatively 

 isolated country studio. 



" Solitude? Where under trees and sky shall 

 you find it? The more solitary the recluse and 



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