“Good Hunting 
527 
cut through the trees to catch the gleam 
of the silver bay and — beyond the tawny 
dunes of the outer beach — the crisp blue 
band of the thrilling sea. 
It is a stalwart old house, constructed in 
days before American builders were given 
to putting on Georgian airs and graces. 
The plain clapboard exterior suggests that 
tranquil disdain of decoration which our 
best modern architects now display in 
some of their chaste domestic exteriors — 
certain of Charles Platt’s, for example — - 
as if quietly aware of being exquisitely cor- 
rect in line and proportion but aristocrat- 
ically oblivious to whether you know it or 
not. Out of sight, but not many miles 
down the coast, numerous smart country 
homes rear their conspicuous heads, each 
looking just as expensive as it can, or, if 
it can’t, then self-consciously “'artistic.” 
The summer crowds rushing by on the 
train to the resorts of fashion would never 
guess, from the desolate little station bear- 
ing its name, the existence of this vener- 
able estate hidden by its thick wall of 
woods, far removed from the highways in- 
fested by screeching motors, meditating 
on the past in unmolested seclusion. 
Up in the garret are rough hide trunks, 
studded with brass nails, containing flow- 
Down in the rich black loam of the river banks hides the elusive woodcock. — Page 525. 
