XVI. 



EVENING AT THE FERNS. 



WE had been driving all the afternoon over the hills 

 of Westchester County and Connecticut, looking at the 

 streams in which years ago trout were abundant, but 

 from which they have now disappeared. I was visiting 

 a friend in Connecticut, one of those men whom to know 

 is to love one who had read the lessons of life to ad- 

 vantage a man of the world who knew the world a 

 scholar who loved books, and with whom it was a luxury 

 to talk about them a traveler who had treasure of travel- 

 memory in his heart a man who made his home a place 

 where he and his fair young wife loved to be, and loved 

 to have those who were of kindred tastes, and where art- 

 ists and students, and men of active business life, and 

 divines met in the pleasantest companies, and always 

 loved to meet. That was the most charming country 

 home in all the land. It was, I say, for my friend Ward 

 has gone to a home of even more light and joy, and the 

 door at the Ferns is not open now. But it's a pleasant 

 home to remember for us poor wanderers. Again and 

 again I am deeply grateful for the blessings of so many 

 happy memories. I have grown old enough to possess 

 more earthly happiness in memories than in possessions 

 or anticipations. As life advances this is the experience 

 of every thoughtful man. 



X 



