THE COUNTRY HOME [chapter 



unfrequented road without seeing places that seem 

 to beckon to me to come and make up ready mate- 

 rial into a home. New England has hundreds of 

 places that make me homesick to leave behind; it is 

 the same in lake-dotted Wisconsin, and in Michigan, 

 with her walnuts and hickories, and rivers senti- 

 nelled with oaks and pines. I selected Central 

 New York and the Oriskany Valley as, of all, the 

 homefullest spot in America. I shall not expect to 

 win you all for immediate neighbors ; but this is an 

 age when we can whisper across a continent, and 

 gird the world with our " good morning." 



All this time we are on our hunt for a home, a 

 place where we may plant ourselves, and grow. 

 The trolley whisks us by red cottages, half hid among 

 pear trees; other brown ones that are perched on 

 knolls, where the owners are husking corn — them- 

 selves seated on huge pumpkins, while jokes fly as 

 fast as the ears ; for husking-bees are not yet quite 

 things of the past. Here and there we look up the 

 most delightful side roads, where we get glimpses 

 of cow barns, with Holsteins standing in the brooks, 

 whisking flies from their backs; while others lie 

 chewing cuds under the willows or the apple trees. 

 Your mood changes with the scene ; yet everywhere 



[16] 



