THE COUNTRY HOME [CHAPTER 
unfrequented road without seeing places that seem 
to beckon to me to come and make up ready mate- 
rial into a home. New England has hundreds of 
places that make me homesick to leave behind; it is 
the same in lake-dotted Wisconsin, and in Michigan, 
with her walnuts and hickories, and rivers senti- 
nelled with oaks and pines. I selected Central ’ 
New York and the Oriskany Valley as, of all, the 
homefullest spot in America. I shall not expect to 
win you all for immediate neighbors; but this is an 
age when we can whisper across a continent, and 
gird the world with our “‘ good morning.” 
All this time we are on our hunt for a home, a 
place where we may plant ourselves, and grow. 
Thetrolley whisks us by red cottages, half hid among 
pear trees; other brown ones that are perched on 
knolls, where the owners are husking corn — them- 
selves seated on huge pumpkins, while jokes fly as 
fast as the ears; for husking-bees are not yet quite 
things of the past. Here and there we look up the 
most delightful side roads, where we get glimpses 
of cow barns, with Holsteins standing in the brooks, 
whisking flies from their backs; while others lie 
chewing cuds under the willows or the apple trees. 
Your mood changes with the scene; yet everywhere 
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