By this time August had passed, and we were still vainly seeking help. Finally on September 1st 

 we started out from our home town, Huntington, with the efficient aid of one colored coachman, who 

 decided that it would be fun to go with us and sent word to his employer that he would not be home that 

 day. (This we learned later, for we would not intentionally have robbed our neighbors.) We were 

 armed with an ax, bush scythe, whetstone, snathe, and, last but not least, the lunch basket. We arrived 

 at the scene of desolation about mid-morning. Frank was started to work in the northwest corner 

 while we went about among the good trees tying white rags on the ones to be spared the woodman's ax. 



It was evident the house plot must be at the northeast corner, for we hold firmly to the belief that 

 in clearing land some trees should be left standing for shade about the home that a person building 

 a house in the broiling, baking sun and then planting young trees around it is short-sighted indeed and 

 loses the best part of a lifetime waiting for them to grow. As a rule the farmer's wife and the house 

 take the dregs of the thought and planning expended, and we made up our minds that the feminine 

 portion of this farmer's household should have some shade and beauty from the earliest days of settle- 

 ment. 



By careful choosing and much planning, a grove of unmutilated or only slightly burned trees was 

 left in front of the house site, a few trees indicated the road, and a smaller grove to the south of the 

 house site gave slight protection (or should I say future promise of protection) from the hot summer 

 sun; it also furnished an excellent place for locating the chicken house and yard. 



The next day we succeeded in getting four men, two colored and two white: Frank and his friend 

 Steve, while the others came from Huntington and Wading River, respectively. It was an interesting 

 day, while two lunch baskets replaced the one of the day previous. Was this pioneering? 



"Frank, get in here with that bush scythe and trim out this plot where the house is to go," said 

 the Senior Partner. 



"Yas, sir," said Frank, whose smile I am sure will never come off as long as his facial elasticity 

 remains. 



A few strokes and the exclamation, "Golly, dis year sweet fern and huckleberry am hard cuttin.' " 



"Well, suppose you sharpen the scythe up and see how she goes." 



"All right. Boss, speck dat mought be a good idea." 



"Say, there, George, what are you doing cutting down trees like that; didn't I tell you not to 

 touch anything until I gave the word, that tree was part of the drive and the only chestnut I had; all 

 right" — as a dubious expression came over his face — ^"you get to work trimming up these felled trees 

 and cutting what is good into cord wood." 



And then we sat down together and wept over over our lost chestnut. 



"Never mind, you know a cherry tree would be much better than a chestnut," I said. 



"Well, maybe it would, but I wanted that chestnut." 



"Look at Steve, does he think this is Broadway, he's wearing gloves and, my gracious, patent 

 leathers also! Great woodmen these. No wonder Westerners call it the effete East." 



"Yes, but look at the Captain, he can everlastingly cord wood, and no lost motion. 



The next day there was added to our "gang" "Bijah" and "Tootsie" and "Rayme," who was 

 familiarly known as the "Pahson," while a few more individuals of colorless character but strong on 

 complexion completed the "gang." 



Their dinner was a sumptuous meal: coffee, boiled in true woodman fashion, sandwiches galore, 

 bananas and cake. 



They decided staying right there and clearing up the whole ten acres was just what they were 

 looking for; that coincided with our desires, so they remained. 



We found that as evening approached the "call of the curbstone" and street lamp was upon them, 

 so they decided to walk to the "Port," as Port Jefferson is fondly termed. This they did, covering the 

 twelve miles on the railroad tracks in due and ancient form, and the return twelve miles were negotiated 

 by dawn. Next day work was not so brisk, but it was some time before we discovered the reason. 



But there was "a grouch on" and complaints started. 



"Mis'r FuUerton, we all ain't gittin' 'nough to eat. Dis year san'wich diet ain't no food fo' a 

 working man." 



"Well, boys, why don't you appoint a cook and caterer, surely one of you can get up a meal. You 

 have talked enough about being good axmen, you ought to know how to live out of doors." 



So the "Pahson" was made chef. Next day a sumptuous meal was in readiness at noon, in fact 

 a trifle before, soup, meat-stew, succotash, pie, and cake. The usual result of a hearty midday meal 

 was soon visible, each man wanted to lie down and go to sleep. 



Then and there we held a conference. The Islanders must be replaced by the manual mainstay 

 of civilization; the sons of Sunny Italy must be secured. In the meantime it was decided to remove 

 the stumps by dynamite, as trying to yank them out by pullers or by mattock and plow was both slow 

 and brutal; as for the ordinary custom cf allowing nature to work six years at the stumps and gradually 

 eliminate them in part by decay was not worthy of consideration. 



Dynamiter Kissam of Huntington was engaged to do the blowing. He is a man of calm and serene 

 temperament, steady and careful at work, and to be fully trusted. With the approach of his coming, 

 the "up sleeve" scheme appeared. The editors of all the big New York and Brooklyn daily papers 

 and many editors of the prominent magazines were to be invited to the spot to see the first stump blown 

 out. 



A good dozen of them made the trip on September Gth and Dynamiter Kissam greeted them with 

 a salute. The first stump was blown, shattered to bits and the ground pulverized, leaving a hole thirty 

 inches deep and marvelous to relate, every bit of it beautiful rich brown soil with no sign of sand or 

 gravel. The six-inch theory went up with the stump. 



It was an interested and interesting party of men. Some of them decided to travel as far north- 

 ward as they could go, others retreated in utter confusion, while some remained the safe 200 feet from 

 the explosion. 



