22 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
IN THE OLD PLACES 
(Continued from Page 1, 1st col.) 
My woodpath skirts the meadow, 
but the slope rises abruptly on the 
left through a fringe of oaks and 
maples to a most entrancing wilder- 
ness. It is all pines and firs and 
birches, none large enough to keep 
out the sun,—a scrubby growth; 
but the wonder is in the carpeting 
of this Arcadian retreat. I have al- 
ways associated mosses and = ferns 
with spots 
“Where the wet, bright grasses 
blow, 
In moist places warm and low.” 
But this hillside rises swiftly from 
the pathway, yet retains that beauti- 
ful carpet of innocent primeval 
things. Such stretches of browny- 
green mosses and fresh green ferns 
I have seldom seen. They are ever- 
green ferns and have lived under 
the snow all winter. I caught up a 
quantity, and like a sheet, several 
feet in expanse, they came off in 
my hand. There was a fine net 
work of roots at the back and al- 
most no soil. Then there are the 
real creeping foliage, such as ever- 
green and foxberry, with pink and 
gray lichens to make up this wood- 
land tapestry. It seems a sacrilege 
to walk on them and still worse to 
go away and leave them in these 
sylvan haunts, where it seems as if 
truly ; 
“The violets of five 
appear and fade, 
human eyes.” 
In that is the fascination to a lover 
of the fields and woods. Just as 
with the scientist there is a great 
desire to discuss what has hitherto 
remained unknown, so to my mind 
comes a fullness of joy, as I search 
out these unfrequented beauty 
spots. In early spring the attraction 
is multiplied. 
It was the 19th of April, but not 
in ’75. I wonder if people found 
time to enjoy nature in those days. 
And I wonder as I read of class 
struggle and race hatred if we may 
not have times quite as bad in our 
near future. I hope not. At least, 
I shall be no less able to face them 
for enjoying this one Spring. 
So I sit here on a slanting rock, 
in the sun. It is a hard, but warm 
couch, and, ceasing to chatter with 
my two babies, who have climbed a 
small pine tree and are making be- 
lieve they are Christmas presents, 
I hear suddenly a strange music. 
It was sounding the whole while, 
summers re- 
unseen by 
but my ears were filled with the 
jangle (Ongistr eet cars sedate 
babble of human voices. No, my 
soul’s ears are open and I hear a 
grand chorus. It comes from the 
Telephone 
Connection 
i 
and Awnings of All Descriptions. 
Wagon and Launch Covers, Cushions and Spray Hoods, 
and Tents to Let. 
J09 1-2 Duncan Street, - 
JOHN GLEASON, Jr., 
Sail Maker 
Tents, Flags, Horse, 
Awnings taken down and stored. 
Gloucester, Mass. 
We make a Specialty of Swinging Bed Hammocks. 
ut | 
ereat meadows at the foot of the 
hull, --1t_is the Spring. Song, — not 
Sinding’s, nor Mendelssohn’s, but 
the glad sonata of the innocents, and 
it rises from the throats of hun- 
dreds of speckled green choristers 
who have just awakened from their 
winter’s sleep. It is the Easter 
greeting from Frog-land. This is 
the season when “froggie would 
a-wooing go.” And how the name 
suits these tuneful, shining, aquat- 
ic fellows! 
Do they recollect, iw “wonder, 
anything of last summer’s  activi- 
ties? Boys and girls, as you glide, 
steel shod over the meadows, do you 
give a thought to those queer hi- 
bernating creatures who, by hun- 
dreds, sleep in the soft mud just 
below the frost line? What tells 
them when it is time to rise and 
sing and let their light shine? What, 
indeed, but “old mother nature,” 
‘who, with her cap strings of green 
freshly tied beneath her ample chin, 
bids all her children to the feast of 
new life! 
Often, as I have walked through 
the woods in winter, when the 
“white hush” of which Bliss Car- 
men sings is all about me, I have 
thought of the myriads of living 
things sleeping away the long 
night, and often have I wished that 
I might emulate their woodland 
ways. Some wise-acre has _ said 
that for all we sleep we pay by for- 
feiting just so much of life that we 
may as well be dead as asleep. But 
I take exceptions. I am sure we 
may as well be dead as half awake 
these glorious spring days. As far 
as the majority of persons are con- 
cerned, it seems to me they are 
awake too much of the time. Cer- 
tain senses are on the alert, but the 
really fine instincts that transcend 
ordinary things are quite snuffed 
out by this too “strenuous life.” 
As I reclined on my rock, looking 
lazily up at the clear blue sky, I be- 
came aware that I was being 
watched in turn, and _ looking 
around I saw a small brown striped 
snake, that had just emerged from 
his house to sniff the spring air. It 
was only a few inches out when 
first saw it, and I had a chance to 
note how prettily the tiny ferns 
festooned his doorway. Seeing me 
he did not offer to retreat, but 
glided out and down the hill at a 
rate that was truly appalling, fright- 
ened, no doubt, by the cries of the 
children. I possess the usual human 
horror of snakes, though not in so 
great a degree as some. Having 
ceased to credit the story of the ser- 
pent’s part in the down-fall of our 
parent pair, and having no justly 
grounded antipathy to the innocent 
reptiles of our fields and pastures, I 
simply turn from them because of 
their distrustful dispositions. Then, 
the celerity of their movements is 
particularly disconcerting to one 
bent on meditation. So I confess 
I removed myself from the imme- 
diate vicinity of that rock, lest Mrs. 
Snake and all the little snakelets 
should put in an appearance. 
We heard many bird calls. I do 
not know them apart, but I enjoy 
them just the same. If the birds 
and the frogs could appreciate the 
fact and sing oftener or more sweet- 
ly because I knew their names and 
habits, I would do much to attain 
to such knowledge; but alas! they 
will sing just as sweetly for me as 
for the most learned naturalist who 
ever spied upon them. I doubt not 
that I enjoy them more, taken as a 
part of the Spring, and the  sun- 
shine, the rippling brooks, and the 
budding flowers and, from my fre- 
quent visits to their haunts, they 
may in time safely conclude that I 
at least know they are there. 
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