DEAD TUBES LOVE THE FIRE. 157 



up the bank under the shade of some pines, 

 while they begin to collect firewood enough for 

 a clambake at dinner-time. If we cannot get 

 clams at our end of the bay, the water being 

 too fresh so far from an ocean inlet, we can at 

 least have them brought from fifteen to twenty 

 miles farther down, and then they can be 

 thrown into the water, where they will live for 

 months, to be taken up whenever wanted. 



The real work of the day then began. While 

 the ladies sewed and read in the shade, and 

 the children picked late blackberries, we sturdy 

 laborers undertook to cut down half-a-dozen 

 small pines and saw their gnarled limbs into 

 suitable pieces for the fire. It was hot work, 

 and it made it hotter to think of the blaze 

 that we were preparing for. To quote Tho- 

 reau again, he used to say that he got more 

 warmth out of cutting his firewood than out 

 of its blaze, and his conscience was never quite 

 easy as to the return he made for the blessings 

 of a log fire. He used to say that though he had 

 paid money to the owner of that wood, he was 

 never quite sure that the debt had been wholly 

 discharged. In two hours we had done enough 

 of our work to see that with a little sawing 



