2i8 THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 



housewren sat on my knee and got a good bit 

 of bread and flew away over yonder into the 

 bushes where was a nest of hungry little ones. 

 Ah ! the joy of that half hour lunch, just thir- 

 teen of us, and we have not quarrelled since! 

 How the children enjoyed the story and wanted 

 to go with me next time. You cannot hunt 

 birds and wild flowers with an attending gang 

 of roistering boys and girls. For a moment 

 they hunt and then dash off on a tangent wild 

 and hilarious. I certainly should catch their 

 spirit and chase after them. 



At right angles with this old rail fence is an 

 older stone wall. Mr. Corbin told me it was 

 over a hundred years old and laid by his grand- 

 father. What solid, hard days of work in these 

 fences and trees, they were built and planted 

 by a hardier race than now exists. Over yonder 

 to the left of the house is the stony outline of 

 the first log cabin with its heavy log fencing a 

 protection from wolves and bears and Indians ; 

 arrow heads and tomahawks have been plowed 

 up in the meadow. Full of interest the old- 

 fashioned lanes leading up to the house from 

 the main road stone-walled, wide enough for 

 two teams abreast, lined with maples and elms 

 and interspersed with berry bushes and thistles 

 and burdocks and clematis and poison-ivy and 



