A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



moment we heard the stamping of our team 

 in the barn. We sat down and laughed 

 heartily over our good luck. Our desperate 

 venture had resulted better than we had 

 dared to hope, and had shamed our wisest 

 plans. At the house our arrival had been 

 anticipated about this time, and dinner was 

 being put upon the table. 



It was then five o'clock, so that we had 

 been in the woods just forty-eight hours ; 

 but if time is only phenomenal, as the phi- 

 losophers say, and life only in feeling, as the 

 poets aver, we were some months, if not 

 years, older at that moment than we had 

 been two days before. Yet younger, too, 

 — though this be a paradox, — for the 

 birches had infused into us some of their 

 own suppleness and strength. 

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