OCTOBER. 245 



who could write this thought well of his stomach, and how 

 was the cider " curious," one wonders ? Was it so tickling 

 to his palate that he felt " curious " ? Well, let us hope 

 not ; but such a thing was not so dreadful then as now. 



How diligently I searched for traces of those wild 

 flowers that Jane and her sister gathered " from the ad- 

 joining woods " ! It was only one hundred and eighty-five 

 years ago that they were here, and a bit of that old forest 

 still remains. Every flower that I found now — asters and 

 golden-rods only — I fancied spring blossoms, and direct de- 

 scendants of those she mentioned. It was child's play, I 

 know; a game of making believe — but what of that? If 

 one would indulge in retrospection of a dreamy, hazy 

 October day, he must not stick too closely to the naked 

 fact. I had wandered along the hill, at flrst without a 

 purpose ; then to locate the old garden, if I could ; this 

 done, had I not earned the right to play J was of an earlier 

 time — an inhabitant of this degenerated locality in its 

 happy, long-gone, early colonial days ? 



Kick as vigorously as he may, if one does not dress 

 conformably to the custom of his station he must pay 

 a social penalty of no light severity. It is different when 

 beyond town limits ; but here let me disclaim all intention 

 of advocating carelessness. He who assumes to be wholly 

 independent of custom in such matters gains absolutely 

 nothing, and risks a good deal. 



What may be worn in the country comes under the 

 headings — worn in the field, and in the house. A success- 

 ful outing becomes practicable when the subject of cloth- 

 ing is farthest from our thoughts, yet if at all inappropri- 

 ate it will enforce itself upon your attention continually. 

 Stuffs that adhering matters will not injure, cut to fit you 

 accurately, cover the whole ground ; with such a suiting go 

 stout boots. Clad thus, when in the field, one is in full 



