112 In Touch with Nature. 



forsaken about the one-time yard, but I noticed a 

 straggling — yes, struggling^rose-bush clung to a 

 corner, and a single half-opened bud showed tim- 

 idly above the tall grass. How like, I thought, 

 many a man who has lost heart, living hopelessly 

 among unsympathetic folks, a very prince in the 

 realm of beggardom. 



Turning a great iron key that threaded the 

 maze of a ponderous lock and drew back its bolt, 

 I entered this ancient dwelling, now deserted, but 

 straightway peopled with the spirits of that hardy 

 folk who knew the Indians as neighbors. The 

 cavernous fireplace, now cold and clammy, — fit 

 home for salamanders that scuttled across the 

 hearth-stones,— grew quickly bright with the flick- 

 ering flames that of old leapt from the back log. 

 The dim outline of a high-backed settle filled the 

 corner; the trusty rifle leaned against the wall. 

 From the crane swung the steaming kettle : there 

 lacked nothing of a happy old-time colonial 

 home. The wind that moaned through the huge 

 chimney and rattled the loose shingles of the roof 

 was not a sobering sound; fancy freed it of all 

 melancholy. The wild tales of woodland adven- 



