THE ROAD TO MUDDY POND 



greens were more frisky than they are 

 now some particularly handsome young 

 arbor vitse lass came down from the north 

 woods and met and loved one of our 

 husky red cedars. How could she help 

 it ? Then there was a secret trip to Prov- 

 idence, or whatever place was the Gretna 

 Green of those days, and* the elopers set- 

 tled down in Plymouth County, or per- 

 haps here in Norfolk. That would ac- 

 count for my white cedar, and it is the 

 only way I can do it. 



I was two miles further toward the 

 Plymouth woods and was broiling a chop 

 for my dinner on the fork of a witch-hazel 

 stick over the lovely clear flame of dry 

 white pine limbs, when I came across the 

 second new thing of my experience in the 

 winter woods. That was black snow. It 

 was on the northerly edge of an open 

 meadow, a spot so tangled with wild rose 



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