and cedar to a little bluff behind Nor- 

 man's Woe Rock. 



Here we camped out before that way 

 of life became general, except for Uncle 

 Sam. He had just been camping out 

 on a large scale, and so it chanced that 

 two large round tents and sundry new 

 rubber blankets came our way and did 

 not go a-begging. The Red Brook 

 filled our kettles in a shady little glen 

 with sides so steep we had to lower and 

 raise ourselves by the trees, and then it 

 ran away and spread out over the sea- 

 rocks in a series of big, shallow basins — ■ 

 a famous dressing-room — but the way to 

 it was of the roughest, for the red rock 

 scaled off, and literally cut the soles 

 from our boots. 



The summer of 1865 was very dry, 

 and so was the brook in many places. 

 Therefore we slept in peace in our 

 tents; but the next year the mosquitoes 

 fairly drove us out, and we were fain 

 to betake ourselves and our bed-sacks 

 down that jagged path to the rocks just 

 above high-water mark where the mos- 

 quitoes left us alone until four o'clock. 

 Then they descended m force, and we 

 had to get up. The crows wanted us to 

 get up at three, at which unseemly hour 

 they used to be discussing mussels at the 

 other end of the rough bar between us 

 and the Rock. We, on the other hand, 

 held that meals attended with clamor, 

 especially at such an hour, were ''toler- 

 able and not to be endured," and so 

 arose one of those painful differences 

 not uncommon between neighbors who 

 cannot sympathize with each other's 

 needs. Remonstrance growing vain, 

 pne of the family employed a rifle; a 

 convincing argument apparently, for 

 the sitting dissolved instantly, and 

 gathered no more. 



Having learned the constellations at 

 school, we had been poking our heads 

 out of window at all hours to see things 

 that were not up when we went to bed; 



and we thought it would now be very 

 convenient to observe these matters from 

 our beds without stirring, but we never 

 did. Dear Robert Louis in the course 

 of his donkey-drive averred, on the au- 

 thority of shepherds and old folk, that 

 ''to the man who sleeps afield — there is 

 one stirring hour — when a wakeful in- 

 fluence goes abroad over the sleeping 

 hemisphere, and all the outdoor world 

 are on their, feet." But we knew nothing 

 of it, perhaps because we never went to 

 bed with the fowls, and had no cows or 

 sheep to browse around us. At all 

 events — and we were really disappoint- 

 ed — that starry show was thrown away 

 on Us. Nobody ever woke. 



But we woke one morning in a thick 

 fog, with the Boston boat shouting its 

 way out past us, and water standing in 

 the dimples in our blankets enough to 

 wash our faces very passably if we had 

 had no better chance. When the sun 

 broke through, some one faced it and 

 struck up : 



"When the sun gloriously — " 

 and the rest, like so many troop-horses, 

 bounded and stood in choir-order and 

 went on : 



— "comes forth from the ocean, 

 Making earth glorious, chasing shadows away, 

 Then do we offer Thee our prayer of devotion: 

 God of the fatherless, guide us, guard us to- 

 day." 

 The other verse we sometimes sang 

 at sunset, undaunted in our heyday bv 

 its melancholy tone, and then we piled a 

 big fire of the fragrant red cedar to light 

 our supper table and our evening. 

 Pretty silver-mounted trinkets cut from 

 the rich heart of this thenceforth pre- 

 cious wood, and polished on the spot, are 

 still in being, ready, as our camp- 

 laureate had it, 



"To sing in praise 



Of summer days 



In camp at Norman's Woe." 



— Helen Mansfield. 



