FEEDING LAMBS. 165 



and old overalls in the corner of the woodshed, gathered up 

 our fishing-tackle, blankets and "tarpaulin," raided the 

 wife's stores for a few loaves of bread, a hunk o' bacon, not 

 forgetting frying pan and coffee pot, and away for the rush- 

 ing stream and a few days of the dear old carnp life. 



What a delight it all was! We felt like boys out of 

 school; the miles of lovely Ohio fields flew past, and before 

 nightfall our little tent was pitched by a great rock under 

 the green lindens, and across tLe tiny meadow of the glen 

 the river gurgled and splashed with constant soothing. What 

 a rest it was. How the tense and ragged nerves relaxed, 

 and the spirit ceased to chafe the flesh or reproach it for 

 lack of energy. What a sense of peace pervaded the rock- 

 walled glen. To lean against the cliff inspired one with 

 calm. Here was something changeless, something that one 

 could bet on, not up to-day and down to-morrow, like a con- 

 founded market. How we clambered up and down the 

 rocky trails wondering with the old wonder at the 

 deep pools of green water, at the fallen rocks 

 crowned with green shmbs and sturdy hemlocks. How we 

 caressed the clinging ferns, anchored each one in its rift of 

 stone. How we threw flies in the deep pools, each one hold- 

 ing a prodigy of a bass if only we could have "luck." How 

 we caught, at least some of them, and how we made the 

 dear old-fashioned camp fire and fried the bacon and fish 

 as in our younger days, and then the dear, weak, smoky, 

 old-fashioned coffee without cream, drank steaming hot from 

 tin cups, and the lying on our blankets under the stars, 

 the camp fire burning low, and the old memories of happier 

 days when the blood of youth coursed swiftly through our 

 veins. The jokes we told! The songs we tried to sing (with 

 voices cracked, some from calling sheep), and how we lay 

 in our tent awake long hours of the night listening to the 

 murmuring river and wondering why Mother Earth was so 

 much more solid-meated than she used to be, or our bones 

 so much nearer the surface, and then in the early dawn 

 how the little wrens called to each other along the cliffs and 

 the vireos and warblers and all the rest of the woods' crew 

 told their pleased expectations, and how we arose at sun- 

 rise and felt refreshed and glad that we were alive and that 

 we were on this dear, dewy, delicious green old earth! Oh, 



