COUNTRY SADNESS. 67 



us sadly that he was no better. They need not have told 

 us. There was a look about the place which said the 

 same before we saw them. There is always a something 

 about the country that indicates the sadness or happiness 

 of the country folk. The first sound that we heard on 

 approaching was the creak of the well-pole, and it was a 

 mournful sound, different from its usual tone of cheer; 

 for there is music in that creaking pole when swiftly han- 

 dled. Then we heard a gate swinging, and the rattle of 

 the chain, and there was something unusually sad about 

 that. There was a flock of geese on the road near the 

 house, and they were all silent as we passed; and the old 

 turkey on the wall looked and stretched his head out, and 

 his long, red neck was glistening in the sun, but he uttered 

 none of his accustomed exclamations of pride. The shut- 

 ters of the old windows were closed. There was not one 

 open on all the end of the house toward the road. In 

 short, there was an indescribable something about the 

 place which you who have lived in the country will un- 

 derstand, and which you who have never lived there can 

 not be made to understand, which indicated that those in 

 the house were in deep affliction of some sort, either bid- 

 ding adieu to one who was going, or looking at the vacant 

 place of one who had gone. 



We did not go in, but remained at the gate while the 

 Doctor entered, bearing the kind wishes of all our party; 

 and as we drove on afterward we were somewhat sad- 

 dened by his description of the wan features and long 

 white hair of the good old man, who was so soon to depart 

 from the scenes that he had loved for eighty years. 



And now with a short turn we left the road, and entered 

 a forest that is almost like an oak opening of prairie land. 

 Here we rested, and, leaving the horses, strolled down the 



