{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3769", "width": "2428", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\n%(T pre ioit^njl^t X)a\\nShelf ...^,,(S 7\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "i.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "THE\\nNEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nTEXT AND ILLUSTRATIONS\\nBY\\nCLIFTON JOHNSON\\nOCT XO 1892\\nBOSTON --^----^.^y\\nLEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS\\nlo Milk Street\\niSq3\\n\\\\w^", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0011.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "PRESS OF\\nKochbsfll anC iffburciitU\\nBOSTON\\nCopyright, 1892, nv Cliftox Johnson\\nThe New England Country", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0012.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nPART I\\nOld Times on a New England Farm\\nPART II\\nThe New England of To-day\\nPART III\\nNew England as the Traveller sees it\\nPAGE\\nI\\n34\\n57\\nPART IV\\nCamping among the New England Hills 82", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0013.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "f\\ns", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0014.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\\nJanuary\\nOi.D Fireplace\\nA Foot-stove\\nCanes and Umbrellas\\nThe Churn\\nYe Fntraxce of Old Fashion\\nFarm Iools\\nA Loom\\nFans and Back-comb\\nOld Chairs\\nOne of iHE Old Houses\\nA Silhouette Portrait\\nA River-boat beforf: the Days oi\\nReels\\nA Comfortable Farm-house\\nThe Flax-wheel\\nFebruary\\nKitchen Utensils\\nGourds and Pkhuns\\nThe Windini; Roadway\\nA Mill-yard in the Valley\\nA Sunny Glen\\nA Quiet Day\\nA Barn-door Group\\nA Turn in the Road\\nA New England Valley\\nA Hill I op Village\\nA Little Lake\\nA Village Scene\\nRailroads\\nPAGE\\nFrontispiece\\nI\\nI\\nI\\n0)\\n4\\n5\\n5\\n6\\n6\\n6\\n7\\n9\\n9\\nlO\\n1 1\\n1 1\\nI 2\\n13\\n14\\n14\\n15\\n16\\n17", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0015.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\\nSnow-fields on the Hills\\nMarch\\nCleared Land\\n(iATHKKixi; Sap in the Sr(;AR Orchard\\nWayside Berrn-fickers\\nA Farm amid ihe Bk; Hills\\nA I.nri.E Home ox iiii-, Hilesidi\\nA Stream from the Hills\\nA Saw-mill\\nA Spring Mornino\\nA Willow-lined River\\nApril One of the Old Village Streets\\nA Look down on the (^onneciicut\\nThe Spring Hoeing\\nAn Old Tavern\\nThe Friendly (Iuide\\nA Hill Town\\nThe Back Sheds\\nWiN iER Twilight Going\\nA Hill-town Village\\nHomes and Out-buildings\\nNew England Rocks\\nHolding the Horses whit\\nOF Water\\nMay\\nA Dam on the Conneciicut\\nAt THE Railroad Station\\nOn THE OuisKiR is of a Growing Factory\\nThe Railway-crossing in ihe Villa(;e\\nA Stone Bridge\\nA Group of Liitle Fishermen\\nA Wayside Watering-i rough\\nA Country School wa tching a Team (;o\\nAn Old Buryin(;-(;r()und\\nBelow the Dam\\nMassachusetts Mountain\\nThe Ferryboat\\nviii\\nup for one .aiore\\nBY the \\\\Vayside\\ns Father goes\\nSlide\\nIN T\\nILLAC\\nDrink\\nPAGE\\ni8\\n19\\n21\\n22\\n23\\n24\\n25\\n25\\n26\\n27\\n28\\n29\\n31\\n32\\n33\\n34\\n34\\n35\\n36\\n37\\n39\\n40\\n41\\n43\\n43\\n44\\n45\\n46\\n47\\n48\\n48\\n49\\n50\\n51\\n51", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0016.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\\ny\\nA Fall on the Connecticut\\nJune\\nThe Growing Boy in his Last Year s Clothes\\nAt the Back-do(3r\\nThe Academy\\nA Horse-chestnut Man\\nAfterglow\\nThe Village Church\\nOne of the Humbler Houses\\nA Deserted Home\\nGetting a Load of Sawdust hack of the Saw-mill\\nA Meadow Stream\\nA Home under ihe Elms\\nA Door-step Group\\nA Roadside Friend\\nBetter than Hoeing on a Hot Day\\nJuly\\nThe Pet of the Farm\\nThe Big Barn-door\\nThe Boy who Mows away\\nSummer Sunlight in a Gorge Road\\nOne of the Liitle Riyers\\nThe Village GroceryiMan\\nAn Outlying ^TLLAGE\\nA Village View in a Half-wooded Dell\\nThe Old Well-sweep\\nIn Hayinc; Time\\nThe Stream and the Elms in the Meadow\\nUnder the Old Sycamore\\nAugust\\nThe Brook in the Woods\\nThe House wiih the Barn across the Road\\nA Warm Summer Day\\nAt Work in her Own Sirawderry Paich\\nSeptember\\nEvening\\nA Load of Wood on the Way up to the Village\\nix\\n52\\n53\\n55\\n55\\n56\\n57\\n57\\n58\\n59\\n59\\n60\\n60\\n61\\n62\\n63\\n64\\n65\\n67\\n68\\n69\\n70\\n71\\n72\\n73\\n74\\n75\\n76\\n77\\n7S\\n79\\nSi\\n82\\n^Z\\n84\\n85\\n87\\n88", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0017.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\\nA WaIKRKAI.L IX THK W OODS\\nA Panor^ama ok Hills and Valleys\\nA Pasiuke Group\\nOCTOP.ER\\nA Pasture Gate\\nA Road hv the Stream\\nAt the Pasjure Gate\\nThe Sheep Pasture\\nA Qui El Pond\\nhusking- ii.me\\nSunlight and Shadow\\nNovember\\nThe Villa(;e on the Hill\\nA Mill in the Valley\\nCloud Shadows\\nA Loo House\\nA Farm-yard Group\\nOn a Mountain Crac;\\nOne oe the Green Mountain Peaks\\nAmong the Big Hills\\nA Deseriki) Hut in jhe Woods\\nCharcoal Kilns\\nRough Uplands\\nDecember\\nA Path in the ^^\u00e2\u0096\u00a0IN^ER Woods\\nWindy Winter On the Way Hr)ME from School\\nX\\nPAGE\\n89\\n90\\n93\\n95\\n96\\n97\\n98\\n99\\n[GO\\n[QI\\n[O3\\n[06\\n[O7\\n[O9\\n10\\nI I\\nI I\\nI 2\\n13\\n14\\n15\\n17\\n19\\n20", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0018.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "OLD FIREPLACE\\nPART I\\nOLD TIMES ON A NEW ENGLAND FARM\\nA BOUT old times there\\nalways hovers a peculiar\\nA FOOT-STOVE\\ncharm. A dreamlaiul atmos-\\nphere overhangs them. The\\npresent, as we battle along\\nthrough it, seems full of hard,\\ndry facts but, looking back,\\nexperience takes on a rosy hue. The sharp edges are\\ngone. Even the trials and difficulties which assailed us\\nhave for the most part lost their power to pain or try\\nus, and take on a story-book interest in this mellow\\nland of memories.\\nTo speak of the good old times is to gently\\nimplicate the present, and the mild disapproval of the\\nnew therein suggested is, from elderly people, to be\\nexpected. We grow conservative with age. Quiet is\\nCANES AND UMBRELLAS", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0019.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nmore pleasing than change. The softened outHncs of the\\npast have an attraction which the present matter-of-fact\\nhurry and work have not, and the times when we were\\nyoung hold peculiar pleasure for our contemplation. To act-\\nually prove by logic and rule that the old times were better\\nthan the new would not be easy. They had their lacks.\\nThe world learns and gains man}- things as it ages. It\\nis to be hoped that it grows better as it grows older but\\neven so the past has\\nits charm, whether\\none of memories in\\nwhich we ourselves\\nwere actors, or of sto-\\nry, which shows the\\nent which is the out-\\nIn writing of\\na definite period in\\ntruth, but the present\\nthe phrase is met\\nyears when the grand-\\nmothers then living\\nTHE CHURN\\nFARM TOOLS\\ncontrast to the pres-\\ngrowth of that past.\\nold times we have\\nmind. .All times, in\\nare old, but wherever\\nwith, it refers to the\\nfathers and grand-\\nwere oung. l^ver\\nsince there were\\ngrandfathers and\\ngrandmothers there have been old times, and\\nthese times have kept even pace with the age-\\ning of the world, following, shadow-like, the\\naccumulating years, and always nearly three-\\nquarters of a century behind the present. It\\ntherefore follows that the old times pictured\\nin this volume have to do with the early part\\nof this century.\\nThis old life as it ran then in our New\\nEngland farmhouses was the typical American\\nlife, and was not essentially different from\\ncountry life in any of our Northern States.\\nEven with that of the city it had many things", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0020.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "THE NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nin common. The\\nmuch the charac-\\nvillages, and were\\ninto the great\\nand stone, now fa-\\nness may throng\\nnoisy streets. Fac-\\nvvith their high-\\ngrimy, crowded J^\\nabout, were of the\\nBut the\\ncentury was the\\nEverywhere was\\nlarge places had\\nter of overgrown\\nnot yet converted\\nblocks of brick\\nmiliar, where busi-\\nmiles and miles of\\ntor} towns, too,\\nwalled mills and\\ntenements huddling\\nfuture.\\ndawn of the new\\nherald of change,\\nactivity. The\\nfi/j-t*^\\ncountry was new, and we had many needs which the Old World did not feel.\\nNecessity made us inventors, and ingenuit}- became an American characteristic.\\nA long line of towns stretched along the Atlantic coast and occupied an\\noccasional interval along the larger\\nstreams, and houses were beginning\\nto appear and hamlets to grow far-\\nther inland. The adventurous were\\nl)ushing estward. The heavy canvas-\\ntopped wagons drawn by the slow-\\nmoving oxen were trundling along the\\nroad toward the setting sun. Under\\nthe white arch of canvas were stored\\nFANS AND BACK-COMB\\nthe furniture and household\\nsupplies of a f^^mily. Behind\\nwere driven the sheep and\\ncattle which should form the\\nnucleus of new flocks in the\\nnew home.\\nThe century was seven\\nyears old before Fulton s\\nsteamer made its trial trip. old chairs", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0021.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "4 THE NEIV ENGL4ND COUNTRY\\nAdvantage was tiuickl} taken of tliis new application of power, and soon\\nsteam vessels were puffing up and down all the larger rivers and along\\nthe coast, though a dozen years ela[)sed before one ventured across the\\nAtlantic. Railroads were still unthought of. Even wagons were not common\\nfor some years after the close of the last century.\\nThere were very few places in the United States whose inhabitants ex-\\nceeded ten thousand in 1800; but the l)uilding of factories shortly commenced,\\nand these became the magnets which drew a great tide of life from the\\ncountry and from foreign shores into the cities. The factories gave the death-\\nONE OF THE OLD HOUSES\\nblow to the multitude of handicrafts which up to this ti-me had flourished in\\nthe New England villages.\\nThe New England town of the period was made up of a group of\\nhouses about an open common. At least, it started thus. As the town grew,\\na second street or a number of them were laid out parallel or at right angles\\nto the first, or houses were erected along the straggling paths which led to\\nthe surrounding fields; and the paths in time grew to the dignit} of roads,\\nand linked the scattered houses and hamlets to the parent village. The\\ncentral village, where the la} of the land permitted, was built on a broad\\nhilltop, partl}^ as in the case of the older towns, for purposes of defence,\\npartly because here the land was less thickly overgrown with trees and", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0022.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n5\\nunderbrush and was more easily cleared. Another reason was that the Old\\nWorld towns were built thus, and the emigrants to this country naturally did\\nlikewise, even though the Old World life in feudal times which gave reason\\nfor this was entirely of\\nHere was the\\nquiet building fronted by\\nweather-worn sheds were\\n[parishioners living at a\\ntheir horses during ser-\\nthe tavern, a substantial\\nwhose sign swung from\\na tree or pole close by.\\nfour or five little shops\\nlines of comfortable two-\\nPeople in general\\ny;/wi(iiiii(iiiiiiiiiiiiii!!iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiium\\\\\\\\m?.\\nA SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT\\nthe past.\\nmeeting house, a big,\\nthe spire. A group of\\nclose behind it, where\\ndistance might shelter\\nvices. Not far away was\\na n d r o o m y building\\nthe front or dangled from\\nThen there would be\\nand stores among the\\nstory dwellings,\\nnecjlected ornamental\\ntrees, though there were before this occasionally persons who had set out\\nshade trees, and places which had started lines of elms along the village\\nstreets. About this time Lombardy poplars became fashionable. The poplar\\nwas a French tree, and was therefore championed by the Jcffersonian Demo-\\ncrats, who had for France a decided partialit) For the most part these\\ntrees have disappeared. Still, here and there their tall, compact, military\\nA RIVER-BOAT BEFORE THE DAYS OF RAILROADS\\nforms are seen standing dark and stiff, and with a still lingering air about\\nthem of foreign strangeness. The appearance of the common or the village\\nin general was little thought of. Sidewalks received almost no attention, and\\nsuch paths as there were had been made by the wear of travel.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0023.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nthe doorways,\\nquite intricate\\nment yet they\\nless in design,\\npleasing in ef-\\ntoo, the deco-\\ndoorway was\\nornament of the\\nand the cornice\\nI iazzas were\\nhouses had a\\nthe entrance.\\nThe finer resi-\\nW hat fine buildings those\\nhouses of old times were and still\\nare not in the least pretentious,\\nbut having a certain distinguished\\nair of comfort and stability no\\nsuggestion of the dolUhouse which\\nso many of our Queen Anne cot-\\ntages bring to mind, but withal an\\nappearance of quiet and attractive\\ndignity. The supreme effort of the\\nbuilder seems to have centred in\\nwhich are often\\nin their orna-\\nare never reck-\\nand are always\\nfeet. Often,\\nration of the\\nechoed in the\\nwindow frames\\nunder the eaves,\\nrare, but many\\nporch b e f o r e\\nA COMFORTABLE FAKMHOUSE\\ndeuces had knockers on the front doors. Door-bells\\ncame into use a little later. Instead of the mod-\\nern door-knobs, iron latches were used, or in some\\ncases wooden ones. If the latch had no thumb-\\npiece and the more primitive ones had not a\\nstring was attached and run through a hole bored\\nfor the purpose just above. The latch was on the\\ninside, and there was no way of raising it except\\nthe latchstring hung out. Locking was readily ac-\\ncomplished by pulling in the string. Some houses\\nhad wooden buttons on the doors just over the\\nlatch, which, when turned down, held the latch in\\nTHE FLAX-WHEEL", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0024.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0025.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0026.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nits notch and thus locked the door. In still other cases doors were locked\\nby means of a fork thrust in just above the latch, but for the most part\\ndoors of buildings, both public and priv^ate, went unlocked\\nHouses in town, and the meeting-house as well, were painted red or\\nyellow. Many\\ncially those be-\\npoorcr people\\nside the main\\nunpaintcd. On\\nold buildings\\nseen s u e cr e s\\nKITCHEN UTENSILS\\nhouses, espc-\\nlonging to the\\nand those out-\\nvillage, were\\nsome of o u r\\nmay yet be\\ntions of these\\nformer brilliant hues, though sun and storm have been softening the tones\\nall through the years, so that only a shadowy tint of the old red or yellow\\nstill clings to the weather-worn clapboards. Most houses changed color to\\nwhite, when that became the fashion fifty years ago. Blinds of the modern\\npattern were not much used before the century was well begun. In the\\nIndian days heavy wood-\\nacross the window open-\\nbut after 1750 the Indians\\nterror to New England\\nThe larger w i 1 d\\ngethcr gone by this time\\nsettled. The sheep pas-\\nnot now in danger from\\nSome of the old farmers\\nGOURDS AND PIGGINS\\nen doors were swung to\\nings to bar the passage,\\nwere no longer objects of\\npeople.\\nanimals were almost alto-\\nin the regions longest\\ntured on the hills were\\nprowling wolves or bears,\\nhad per h a p s in t h e i r\\nyounger days heard the dismal cry of the former far off in the woods, per-\\nhaps had shot a black bear or two, or caught a few in traps but now a\\nbear, wolf, or wildcat was rarely seen anywhere in the vicinit}- of the older\\ntowns. Deer had almost disappeared. Wild turkeys could still be shot in\\nconsiderable numbers, and in the fall great flocks of pigeons made their\\nflights in sufficient numbers to darken the sky.\\nTo the boys, that seems the golden age when the Indians lurked in\\nthe deep woods, when bears and wolves and other wild beasts had to be\\nfought with. At such a time who would not be a hero Hoeing corn,\\nt^iggi ig potatoes, bringing in wood, milking cows, where is the chance to\\nshow our talents in these things? The heroes are in the West, the North,", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0027.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "10\\nTHE NHIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nor in tlic Tropics now. These present times are slow and dull, and hold no\\nsuch opportunit) as had the fathers, for the aliant youth to show his\\nquality. l^ut this feeling- is a mistaken one. The lives of the fathers were\\nmany times dull to them; the} hao much monotonous labor; wild animals\\nwere nuisances, which caused loss and worr}-; while the Indians L;ave them\\nman\\\\ a scare, and awakened little feeling in the ount;ster of that da}-\\nbe} ond one of terror. At the time of which I write the pioneer epoch\\nwas past in New luigland, but many stories of Indians and wild beasts were\\ntold about the firesides on winter evenings.\\nIn a country town the coming of the stage-coach was one of the\\nevents of its daily life. Some places were visited by the coaches once or\\ntwice a week, others once a day or even oftener. When the lumbering\\ncoach swept down the village street with crack of whip and blast of horn,\\neverybody tried to see it as it rumbled j^ast. Happy was the man or bo}\\nwhom business or pleasure called to the tavern when the driver with a", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0028.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nII\\nA MILL-YARD IN THE VALLEY\\nwore. News was slow in travelling,\\nand the papers of the day were\\nrather barren o{ the gossipy items\\nwhich the average human being\\ncraves. This man of the world,\\ntherefore, who, in his journe\\\\ ings,\\nsaw and heard so much of which\\nhis fellowmcn were ignorant, as-\\nsumed a magnified importance.\\nHe always found ready listeners,\\nand his opinions had much weight.\\nIf inclined to be reticent he was\\nquestioned and coaxed to divulge\\nhis knowledge of the happenings\\nin the outside world with no little\\nanxiety. When railroads came, the\\ncoaches travelled remoter ways.\\nSome found a last resting-place\\nin backyards, and there amid\\nother rubbish, grasses, and weeds\\ngradually fell to pieces. Others,\\nflourish brought his\\nhorses to a standstill\\nbefore the door. The\\ndriver was a very im-\\nportant person in the\\neyes of most of the\\nvillagers, and by none\\nwas his importance\\nmore highl} appreci-\\nated than b) himself.\\nHis dignity was made\\nthe more impressive by\\nthe hi di beaver hat he\\nA SUNNY GLEN", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0029.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "12\\nTHE NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\npushed onward by the iron horse, went West, gettini,^ farther and farther\\nfrom their old haunts, till at last the Rocky Mountains were reached. It\\n^^^kJ\\ni^^\\n*0f A ^-tt 4ttfit, ^j ufm^i\\n,f.\\nmay be that some of the old New England coaches are still at work in\\nthose rugged regions.\\nAnother characteristic vehicle of the times was a long, heavy wagon\\nwith an arched canvas top and high board sides, drawn b from four to\\nten horses, which travelled between Boston ami towns inland, conveying tea,\\ncoffee, and store goods, and returning with a load of pork, butter, cheese,\\nand grain. These wagons were useful when families wished to travel long\\ndistances. When the railroads began to do their former work the wagons\\nwere utilized by the emigrants, and finally on the Western plains were given\\nthe name of prairie schooners.\\nWhen an inland town was in the neighborhood of a navigable stream\\nthe heavier supplies, such as sugar, rum, and molasses, were brought up the\\nriver in big flat-boats. These boats were clumsy, square-ended affairs, w^ith\\na narrow cabin across the stern just high enough for a man to stand up\\nin, where were a couple of bunks and a rude stove. A big, square sail", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0030.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE NBIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n13\\non a thirty-foot mast moved the craft, but when the wind failed it was\\nnecessary to resort to pohng. The helmsman had his post on the roof of\\nthe cabin, and he with one other man made up the crew. Sometimes they\\nate their meals on board, sometimes stopped at a village on the banks and\\nwent to the tavern. When darkness settled down they hitched somewhere\\nalong shore, but at times, when the wind was fair and the moon bright,\\nwould sail on all night.\\nPost-offices were in the early days far less common than now, and\\npostage was expensive, varying in amount with the distance the missive\\ntravelled. Letters were not stamped, but the sum charged was marked on\\nthe corner and collected by the postmaster on delivery. Envelopes were\\nnot in common use till about 1850. Letters were usually written on large-\\nA BARN-DOOR GROUP\\nsized paper, and as much as possible crowded on a sheet. The sheet was\\ndexterously folded so that the only blank space, purposely so left, made the\\nfront and back of the missive. Then the letter was directed and sealed\\nwith wax, and was ready for the mail. Towns not favored with a post-", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0031.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "M\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nA TURN IN THE RuAD\\noffice would get their mail by the stage-coach, or, if off the stage routes,\\nwould send a post-rider i)criodicallN to the nearest office. As the post-rider\\ncame jogging back with his saddle-bags full of newspapers and letters, the\\nA NEW ENGLAND VALLEY\\nsound of his horn which told of his approach was a very pleasant one to\\nthose within the farm-houses, who always looked forward with eagerness to\\nthe day which brought the county paper with the news.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0032.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n15\\nThe out-door farm life of that time was distinguished b\\\\ its long\\nhours and the amount of muscle required. The tools were rude and clumsy,\\nand the machines which did away with hand labor were very few. From\\nseed-time to harvest, work began with the coming of day light in the morn-\\ning, and only ceased when in the evening the gray gloom of night began\\nto settle down.\\nUp to this time little fencing had been done about the pasture land,\\nthat being common property on which everybody turned loose their sheep\\nand cattle. Many of the creatures wore bells, which tinkled and jingled on\\nthe hillsides and in the woods from morn till night. But now the towns\\nwere dividing the commons among the property-holders, fences were\\nA HILLTOP VILLAGE\\nbuilt, and the flocks separated. On rocky land many stone walls were built,\\nbut in the lowlands the usual fence was made by digging a ditch, and on\\nthe ridge made by the earth thrown out making a low barrier of rails,\\nstakes, and brush. Graduall} more substantial fences were built, for the\\nmost part of the zigzag Virginia rail pattern.\\nOxen did most of the heavy farm-work, such as ploughing and\\nhauling, and it was not till after 1825 that horses became more gen-\\neral. The common cart which then answered in the place of our two-\\nhorse wagon was a huge two-wheeled affair having usually a heavy box\\nbody on the ex. But when used in haying, the sides of the box were\\nremoved and long stakes were substituted.\\nIn the summer the men were out before sun up, swinging their scythes\\nthrough the dewy grass, and leaving long, wet windrows behind them for the", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0033.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "i6\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nboys to spread. Mowing, turning, and raking were all done by hand, which\\nmade the labor of ha\\\\-ing an extended one. In the busiest times the women\\nand girls of the family often helped in the fields tending hay, or load-\\ning it, or raking after. They helped, too, in harvesting the grain and\\nflax, and later in picking up apples in the orchard. They did the milking\\nA LITTLE LAKE\\nthe year round, using clumsy wooden pails, and for a seat, a heav three-\\nleorrcd stool or a block of wood. The smaller children drove the cows to\\npasture in the morning and brought them back at night, often a distance of\\na mile or two along lonesome roadways or by-paths.\\nWhen the grain ripened, it was reaped by hand with the slender, saw-\\nedged sickles. The peas and oats, which were sowed together, had to be\\nmowed and gotten in; the flax had to be pulled and rotted; there was hoe-\\ning to be done, and the summer was full of work. In the fall the corn\\nhad to be cut and husked and the stalks brought in, the pumpkins and\\nsquashes gathered, potatoes dug, the haying finished, and the apples picked.\\nMost farms had large orchards about them, and many barrels of apples were\\nstowed away in the cellar, but the larger part was made into cider. There\\nwould usually be several little cider-mills in a town, whose creaking machinery\\ncould be heard on many a cool autumn day groaning under its labors.\\nThe shaking of the apple-trees and carting the fruit to mill, and the taking", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0034.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n17\\ncopious draughts of the sweet hquid through a straw from the tub tliat\\nreceived it from the press, and then the return with the full barrels all\\nthis had more of the frolic in it than real work, particularly for the boys.\\nThe sweet apples, in large part, were run through the mill by themselves,\\nand the cider was boiled down at home into a thick fluid known as apple-\\nmolasses, used for sweetening pies, sauce, and puddings. When harvesting\\nwas done, the cellar was full of vegetables in barrels and bins and heaps, and\\nheavy casks of cider lined the walls, and little space was left for passageways.\\nEven in broad daylight it was a place mysterious, gloomy, and dungeon-like;\\nyet its very fulness which made it thus was suggestive of good cheer.\\nWinter, too, brought plenty of work, but it was not so arduous and\\nlonsz-continued as that of summer. There was the stock to feed and water\\nA VILLAGE SCENE\\nand keep comfortable; the threshing to do; trees must be felled in the\\nwoods and sledded to the home yard, there to be worked up into fireplace\\nlength; tools needed mending; there was the flax to attend to, and, if new\\nfencing was to be done in the spring, rails must be split.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0035.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "1 8 THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nGrain was threshed out with hand-flails on the barn floor. On many\\ndays of earh winter and from many a group of farm buildings the rhythmic\\nbeat of the flails sounded clear on the frosty air as straw and grain parted\\ncompany. When it was necessary to go to mill, the farmer filled a couple\\nof l)ags, fastened them across the back of his horse, mounted in front, and\\ntrotted olT to get it ground, or perhaps his wife or one of the children\\nmounted instead and tiid the errand. The grist-mill was in some hollow\\nwhere the water paused abo\\\\ e in a sleei))- pond, and then, having turned the\\nSNOW-FIELDS ON THE HILLS\\ngreat slow-revolving wooden wlieel against the side of the mill, tumbled noisily\\non down the ravine.\\nIn the earliest days of spring, if the farm had a maple orchard within\\nits Ijorders, there were trees to tap, and sap to gather and boil down. The\\nsnow still la\\\\- deep in the woods where the maples grew, and the sap-gathering\\nwas done with an ox-sled on which was set a huge cask. In some sheltered\\nnook of the woods a big kettle was swung over an open-air fire, and the\\nboiling-down process commenced.\\nNot much farm produce was sold for money; the people raised and\\nmade much more of what they ate and wore than at present, and exchanged\\nwith neighbors and the village storekeeper whatever they had a surplus of", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0036.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0037.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0038.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n21\\nfor things which they lacked. Even the minister and doctor were paid in\\npart with wood, grain, and other produce. At the beginning of the century\\naccounts were kept in pounds, shillings, and pence, and the money in use\\nwas of foreign coinage, mainly English and Spanish.\\nThe kitchen was the centre of family life. Here a vast amount of\\nwork was done. Here they ate, spent their evenings, and commonly received\\nvisitors. Often it served as a sleeping-room besides. Its size was ample,\\nthough the ceiling was low and pretty sure to be crossed by a ponderous\\nbeam of the framework of the house, the lower half projecting from the\\nplastering above. A few straight-backed chairs sat stiffly up against the\\nwainscoted wall, and seemed to have an air of reserve that would change\\nto surprise if one ventured to move or use them. There stood the dresser.\\nCLEARED LAND\\nwith bright array of pewter, a small table, a bed turned up against the wall\\nand hidden by curtains, a cradle, a stand, a great high-backed settle, and\\nlastly, extending almost across one end of the room, was the most important\\nfeature of the kitchen, the fireplace.\\nLet us take an early morning look into one of these old kitchens.\\nDusky shadows still linger; we cannot make objects out clearly; one or two", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0039.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "22\\nTHE NHIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ncoals are glowini:^ in the cavernous mouth of the fireplace, and a wisp of\\nsmoke steals upward and is lost in the i^loomy chimney. It is late in the\\nfall. When winter really sets in, the turned- up bed will come into use.\\nSomcbod} is movin about in the bedroom, and now the door is opened and\\nthe man of the house, in frowzled head, comes from the slce[)ing-room. He\\nis in his shirt-sleeves, and the heels of his big slippers clatter on the floor\\nas he shuffles across to the fireplace. He is a smooth-faced, middle-aged\\nGATHERING SAP IN THE SUGAR ORCHARD\\nman, vigorous, but slow- moving, and bent by hard work. He pokes away\\nthe ashes, throws on the coals a few sticks from a pile of three-foot wood\\non the floor close by, and in a few moments there is a fine blaze and crackle.\\nThe room is chilly, and the man rubs his hands together, stooping forward\\nto catch the warmth from the fire. A scratching is heard on the outside\\ntloor. He shufties over and opens it. The cat glides in and rubs against\\nhim gratefully as she goes over to the fireplace, where she seats herself on\\nthe hearth and proceeds to make an elaborate toilet.\\nThe man kicks off his slippers and pulls on a pair of stiff, heavy\\nboots. He takes his coat from a peg by the fireplace, puts it on and his cap,\\nand goes out. Every footstep falls clear and distinct on the frozen ground.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0040.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n23\\nThe bi- arm of the well-sweep in the yard creaks as he lowers tlie bucket\\nfor water. Soon he returns with a brimming pail, fills the iron tea-kettle,\\nthen goes out again.\\nThe kettle, suspended from the crane, seems quite shocked by this\\ndeluge of cold water. It swings in nervous motion on its pot-hook and shakes\\n1\\nWAYSIDE BERRY-PICKERS\\nfrom its black sides the water-drops, which fall with a quick hiss of protest\\nuito the fire. The heat below waxes greater, and the cat moves to a cooler\\nposition.\\nIt is lighter now. The tea-kettle recovers from its ill-humor, and, half\\nasleep, smgs through its nose a droning song of contentment and sends up\\nthe chimney quite a little cloud of steam. Now the woman of the family", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0041.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "24\\nTHE NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nhas appeared and bustles about gettin^^ breakfast. She calls the children at\\nthe chamber door. Down they come, and crowd about the fire or scrub\\nthemselves in the wash-basin on the table. Grandfather is up, and he and\\nthe older boys go out-doors. Grandma helps the smaller children fasten\\ntheir clothes and wash their faces, and assists about the housework.\\nSome of the older girls, perhaps grandma or the mother also, soon take\\ntheir wooden pails and go to the barn to milk the cows. When the}- returned,\\nA FARM AMID THE BIG HILLS\\nthey strained the milk through cloths held over the tops of the pails into\\nthe brown earthen pans, and then were ready to help with the breakfast\\npreparations. A second kettle has been hung from the crane, in which\\npotatoes are boiling. Coals have been raked out on the hearth, and over\\nthem is set a long-legged spider on which slices of pork are sizzling.\\nBy the time breakfast was ready, the men, by reason of their open-air\\nexercise, had appetites which nought but very hearty food could appease.\\nBefore they sat down to eat, the family gathered about the table and stood\\nwhile the head of the family asked a blessing. Then the older ones seated\\nthemselves, while the children went to a small second table at one side, about", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0042.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n25\\nwhich they stood and ate, trotting over to the main table when they wished\\nto replenish their plates.\\nMany families had cider on the table to drink at every meal. Other\\npeople would\\nsometimes tea,\\nt e r was not\\ncept for Com-\\ner to such an\\npresent. Coffee\\nwith molasses\\nso accustomed\\ncome to this,\\nA LITTLE HOME ON THE HILLSIDE\\nhave coffee or\\nthough the lat-\\nmuch used ex-\\npan\\\\ and neith-\\nextent as at\\nwas sweetened\\nordinarily, and\\ndid palates be-\\nthat when suijar\\ncame into more general use, it was considered by many a very poor sub-\\nstitute\\nBreakfast eaten, the household gathered about the main table once\\nmore and stood while thanks were returned. Then followed famil}- worship.\\nIt was customary to read the l^ible from beginning to end, a chapter each\\nmorning, all the famil} i-eading verses in turn; and then, if they were musical,\\na hymn was sung. T.astly, all knelt while prayer was offered.\\nA STREAM FROM THE HILLS\\nWork now began again. The men left to take up their labor out of\\ndoors, while the women busied themselves in the house with their varied\\ntasks. As the morning wore away, preparation began for dinner. What", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0043.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "26\\nTHR NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nwas known as a boiled dinner was most often planned. It was prepared\\nin a single great pot. First the meat was put in then from time to time,\\naccording as the particular things were quick or slow in cooking, the vegetables\\nwere added, potatoes, beets, squash, turnip, and cabbage, and probably in\\nthe same pot a bag of Indian pudding. When clock or noon-mark registered\\ntwelx e, the dinner was dished up and the men called in. The meal was\\nhearty and simple, and the family ditl not feel the need of much besides\\ntlie meat and vegetables. Even bread was hardl}- thought necessary. Some-\\ntimes i^ie or pudding was brought on for dessert, but not regularly. The\\npie-eating era began a generation later.\\nAt six o clock the supper-table was set. The cows had been fed and\\nmilked the boys had brought in the wood, and as they had no wood-boxes,\\nt\\n5\u00c2\u00bbWSS^^\\nA SAW-MILL\\nthey dumped the heavy three-foot sticks on the floor by the fire, or stood\\nit up on end against the wall at one side, or piled it between the legs of the\\nkitchen table and other odd jobs were done, and the family gathered about\\nthe table. Bread and milk was quite apt to be the chief supper dish.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0044.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nAfter tlie blessing was asked and the elders had seated themselves, the children\\nwould fill their pewter porringers or wooden bowls and pull their chairs up\\nabout the firejilace. Instead, they would sometimes crouch on the stone hearth,\\nwhile the fire glowed and crackled and set the lights and shatlows pla) ing\\nabout the little figures. Their chatter back and forth and the company of\\nthe fire made their circle like a little world in itself, and the grown folks\\nand their talk seemed far, far away.\\nWhen supper was ended and the dishes done, the women took up\\nknitting. Almost\\nw as of home\\nthe task of mak-\\nwas a never-end-\\nthe little girls of\\nw ere n o t idle,\\ntheir first lessons\\nneedles. The\\nwork to d o\\nc u p i e d wit h\\nen harness o r\\nA SPRING MORNING\\ntheir sewing and\\neverything worn\\nmanufacture, and\\ning and mending\\ning one. Even\\nfour or five years\\nbut were taking\\nwith the knitting-\\nmen had less real\\nperhaps were oc-\\nmending a brok-\\ntool, making a birch broom, whittling out a few clothes-pins, or constructing\\na box-trap in which to catch mice. Sometimes certain of the family played\\ngames. Evening, too, was a time for reading.\\nJust before the children went to bed, the family laid aside all tasks\\nand games, and read a chapter from the Hible and had prayers. By nine\\no clock all had retired except the father, the head of the family, who wound\\nthe clock, pulled off his boots in a boot-jack of his own making, and yawned\\nas he shovelled the ashes over some of the larger hard-wood coals, lest\\nthe fire should be lost during the night. Then he, too, disappeared, and the\\nfire snap[)ed more feebly, with now and then a fresh but short-lived eftbrt to\\nblaze, and so faded into a dull glow and left the gloomy shadows of the\\nroom in almost full sway.\\nIt is difficult to compare the old life with the new and say that in\\nany particular way one was better than the other, and decide under which\\nconditions character would grow most manly or most womanly. Human\\nnature is the same now as fifty or seventy-five years ago; but that nature\\ngrows in a difterent soil, and surrounded by a different atmosphere. Our", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0045.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "28\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\npresent standards are unlike the old, the conditions surrounding us have\\nchanged, and the way in which our feelings, our desires, and aspirations\\nfind expression is changed as well.\\nIt is certain that all the elements of life and growth are within easier\\nA WILLOW-LINED RIVER\\nreach, and may more easily be drawn together and assimilated, that under\\nfavorable conditions one can get a finer and broader culture. Nature with\\nall its forces, holding power for help and hindrance, has been brought more\\nunder man s subjection. Contributions to the sum of human thought and\\nknowledge have been many and valuable. As the years have slipped away\\nthe upward path has been made broader and smoother, and one can travel\\nit in more comfort and go much faster. But, at the same time, the down-\\nward paths have increased in number and attractiveness, and the narrower\\nways and more rigid training of three generations ago would unquestionably\\nhave held some steady who now are deteriorating.\\nThe fathers made the path toward virtue both narrow and rugged.\\nIt required sturdy self-control to keep that way; but each sternly held\\nhimself, his family, and his neighbors to the task. Any backsliding or step-\\nping aside called for severe reprimand or punishment. About their lives\\nwas a certain forbidding formality and setness. They had a powerful sense", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0046.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0047.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0048.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n31\\nof independence, but were very conservative. Any change of thought or\\naction was looked upon as dangerous, and they often made what was\\ntheir independence another s bonds. Life was to them very serious. In it,\\naccording to their interpretation, there was room for Httle else than sober\\nyears of work. What enjoyment they got in life came from the satisfaction\\nin work accomplished, in an improved property, and in prosperous sons and\\ndaughters.\\nMen s character moulds their features. It graved deep lines of stub-\\nborn firmness on the faces of the men of that time. There were shown\\ndetermination and enterprise and ingenuity. In the e) es were steadiness and\\nsturti} honesty. But the softening which the free play of humor and imagi-\\nnation would help produce were lacking. The man s nature was petrified\\n4!^\\nJ*\u00c2\u00bbi.%\\n^i \u00c2\u00abj\\nKSi*Svr\\nL^^\\nA LOOK DOvVN ON THE CONNECTICUT\\nmto a rock which held its own, and withstood the sunshine and the bufteting\\nstorm with equal firmness. He had ability and willingness to bear great\\nburdens, and the generation did a vast amount of work in the world.\\nThe individual to-day is much more independent of the world close\\nabout him than he was seventy-five years ago. He asks less of his neigh-\\nbors, they less of him. The interests of the community are of less impor-", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0049.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "32\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ntancc to him, and he is of less importance to the communit}-. The\\ntown which in the old days would have been a little world to him is now\\nbut a small space on the earth. Man has grown more restless. A quiet life\\nof simple usefulness is not enough. His fingers itch for mone} and he\\ndreams of fame. He feels the swirl of the current which draws him toward\\nthose great whirlpools of life, our modern cities. There alone, it seems to\\nhim, are things done on a grand scale to be admired there alone he sees\\nfair scope for energy and ability. One b\\\\ one the countr} dwellers leave\\nthe home farms, and some there are win fame and some get fortune, but\\nmany are forever\\nIn times\\nless hurr) and\\nTo be satisfied\\nhas is to have\\ner one lives in\\nmansion. To live\\ncomfort was once\\nview of what\\nnecessities of\\nchanged vastly,\\nonce have been\\nmay now be but\\nness. The people\\nvery little, and\\ntact with outside\\nn e i ST h b o r i n e\\nTHE SPRING HOEING\\nlost sight of.\\npast there was\\nmore content,\\nw i t h w hat one\\nhappiness, wheth-\\na hovel or in a\\nwith econoni} in\\nenough. But the\\nconstitute the\\ncomfort has\\nand what would\\naccounted luxury\\na painful meagre-\\nformerly travelled\\nhad small con-\\nlife, save that of\\ntowns, which dif-\\nfered little from that at home. Journeys which now, with the aid of steam,\\nare slight undertakings, were then very serious. In the case of journeys of\\nany length, prayers were offered in church for the traveller s safe return\\nand when the journey was ended, the minister gave thanks for the happy\\naccomplishment of the trip. The labor and uncertainty connected with a\\nlong journey, and the unfamiliarity with the destination, made home seem a\\nvery safe and comfortable place. The newspapers were prosy and slow,\\nand gave little account of the outside world to excite and attract the young.\\nLong reports of legislative and congressional doings, and discussions of sub-\\njects political and religious, filled many columns. No space was wasted on", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0050.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE NBIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n33\\nAN OLD TAVERN\\nlight reading. The object was not so much to interest as to instruct the\\nreader. The communications and reports of news were inclined to be prosy\\nand pompous, but were always thoughtful and courteous, rarely abusive or\\ntrivial. There was an almost entire lack of local news, and such things as\\nstories, slang, or nonsense were not allowed.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0051.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "34\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nPART II\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND OF TO-DAY\\nT\\nHE New England country has with the ageing of\\nthe century been depopulated. The causes arc\\nvarious, but the evolution of the newspaper has much\\nto do with this. Visions of movement, and wealth, and\\nfame penetrate daily to the smallest village. Youth has\\nalways elements of unfixity and uneasiness. It crave.i\\nstir and excitement. The future is full of golden pos-\\nsibilities. Riches or position present no heiglit which\\nmay not be scaled. But it is not the farm which holds\\nthese higher possibilities. No, they are to be won in\\nstore, or shop, or bank, where the noisy tides of the\\nbig towns keep up their restless sway through the leagues\\nof brick-walled city streets. In the city is always movement. Not a paper\\ncomes into the country village but that tells of some grand emprise, some fresh\\nTHE FRIENDLY GUIDE\\n^vfc\\nA HILL TOWN", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0052.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n35\\nTHE BACK SHEDS\\nexcitement, that has its home in a famiHar near city. But the chronicler for\\nthe home viHage finds no items more worthy of note than that some one s cow\\nhas died, and that Amanda Jones is visiting Susan Smith. The contrast\\npresented is one of home monotony and triviality, and city stir and grandeur.\\nThe picture is not altogether a\\ntrue one. Acquaintance with\\nthe big places is to the coun-\\ntry boy almost uniformly dis-\\nappointing. The buildings arc\\nnot so high nor so fine as he\\nsupposed. The din and crowds\\nof the cit\\\\ streets grow confus-\\ning and wearisome. If he stays\\nand gains a situation, and be-\\ngins to work his wa\\\\^ up in\\nthe world, he finds competition\\nintense, his freedom sharplv cur-\\ntailed, and his lodgings narrow\\nand in many ways lacking comfort. If he lives on his wages, which at first\\nwill be very small, close economy is recpiired in food, clothes, and other\\nexpenses. In summer the heat is apt to make office and lodging-place\\nstiflingly disagreeable. All through the year memories of the home farm, if\\nhe be imaginatively inclined, make Arcadian pictures in his mind, and he\\nmany times questions if he has not jumped from the frying-pan into\\nthe fire.\\nNo one place holds every element of pleasure or comfort. The country\\nhas its lacks, so has the city. The ideal home is perhaps in the country\\nvillage within easy travelling distance of some big town. Thus you may\\nlargely avoid the drawbacks of either place, while you have within reach all\\ntheir pleasures. To live far back among the hills, cut off from the nearest\\nrailway station by many miles of hard travelling, is, in these modern days,\\na positive hardship. Few Oung people will settle down contentedly where\\nthey are so cut oft from the pleasures of seeing the world by occasional\\nrailroad trips, and getting the glimpses they crave of the busier life of the\\ncities. Hence the tide sets away from the remoter towns. The masses always\\nfollow the turn of the current whichever way it shows strong tendency to", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0053.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "36\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nrun, and the boys, as they grow up, Hve in full expectation of leaving the\\nhome place after school-days are over. One by one they go from the valleys\\nand the hill-tops, and merge into the busier life of the factory villages and\\nthe cities. An air of depression lingers over the regions they leave. The\\nmost vigorous life has departed, enterprise is asleep, thrift lags. There are\\nstill houses neatly kept, with clean, well-tilled fields about, and a town now\\nand then which is a happy exception to the rule; but there is much which\\nis hopeless and despondent. Few roads can be followed far without coming\\nWINTER TWILIGHT GOING UP FOR ONE MORE SLIDE\\nupon some broken-windowed ruin of a house, now for years unoccupied, and\\nwholly given over to decay. The children left, drawn by dreams of the\\ngains the city or the sea or the far West offered and the parents are gone,\\ntoo, now. The shingles and clapboards loosen and the roof sags, and\\nwithin, damp, mossy decay has fastened itself to walls, floor, and ceiling of\\nevery room. Gaps have broken in the stone walls along the roadway, and\\nthe brambles are thick springing on either side. In the front yard is a\\ngnarled, untrimmed apple-tree with a great broken limb sagging to the ground,\\nand about a ragged growth of bushes. As time goes on, the house falls\\npiece by piece, and at last only the shattered chimney stands, a grim monu-\\nment of the one-day comfortable home a memorial of the dead past.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0054.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n37\\nYet even now life is not all of the past. Amidst the rubbish careful\\nwatching might reveal many of the little creatures of the field, and at\\neventide of summer days you might see a darting of wings and descry\\na little company of swallows dipping toward the chimney s open cavern.\\nSome of the deserted homes would be still habitable, and that\\nvery comfortably so, were there tenants. The life possible on these farms\\nwould seem much happier and more desirable than that possible to the\\npoor family in the tenement of a factory village or in the crowded quarters\\nof our cities. But the country is to such very lonesome, and there is hardly\\na city family of the more ignorant classes but will choose squalor in the\\ncity rather than comfort in the country. The noise and continual move-\\nment of the town have become a part of their lives, and severed from that\\nit is but a blank, unspeaking landscape unfolds before their eyes. Nature is\\nreally never lonesome. Only our habit and education make it so seem.\\nNature is always singing, whether in our fellow humans, or in the hills and\\nvalleys, or in the life of plants and animals. It is we lack eyes to see and\\nears to hear., Nevertheless, mankind is naturally social, and though Robinson\\nA HILL-TOWN VILLAGE", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0055.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "38 THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nCrusoe and his island were very interesting, we do not env\\\\- him the\\nexperience, and demand at least a few congenial neighbors within eas} reach.\\nHOVIES AND OUT-EUILDINGS BY THE WAYSIDE\\nThere is hardly any purel\\\\ farming comnumil)- in New England but\\nthat has decreased in population within the past fifty years. It has been\\nthe hill towns which have suffered most, but the valley towns have been\\naffected as well. It has become the habit to account all country life dull,\\nand the city s superior liveliness, and the chances to earn read) money\\noffered by stores and factories, draw awa\\\\ the life of e\\\\XMi the most favored\\ncommunities. New England is to day much less a region of thriftv ankec\\nfarmers than it is a land of busy manufacturing \\\\illages. (Jf these, enter-\\nprise and ingenious inventiveness are characteristic. They call to them a large\\nforeign population which fills the monotonous rows of tenements m the\\nneighborhood of the mills, or in the case of the more thrifty establishes\\nitself in little separate famil} homes on the outskirts. The farming regions\\nabout naturally take to market gardening, and these places become the chief\\nbuyers of produce for the country miles about.\\nFarming towns within easy distance of the railroatls usually attain a", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0056.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n39\\nfair prosperity, and energy and forethought give good returns for labor\\nexpended. The towns themselves with their elm-shadowed streets are neatly\\nkept, and there is a certain pride taken in the good appearance of the\\nhomes half hidden in the drooping foliage. In the remoter towns are found\\nthrifty dairy farms here and there, but the villages as a whole are inclined\\nto look weatherworn and hopeless. Many of the houses have been strangers\\nto fresh paint for a score of years or more and others, though still inhabited,\\ndepress with their broken chimnies, leaky roofs, and decrepit out-buildings;\\nwhile there are not wanting the homes altogether deserted, silent, broken-\\nwindowed, and sepulchral. Often these upland towns are nearly barren of\\n^4eJW^ _2 __\\nNEW ENGLAND ROCKS\\nwell-grown trees which might add so much to their appearance, and the trees\\nthere are, look wind-blown and storm-beaten. This, with the thin, weedy\\ngrasses which grow on the opens before the churches, gives such places an\\naccumulated forlornness.\\nIt may be possible to find one of the outlying hamlets entirely de-", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0057.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "40\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nserted. There are little villages where you may find half a dozen or more\\nforsaken homes, and no more than one or two still occupied and the whole\\nvillage and land is concentrated in one or two big farms, big only in\\nacres, however. There is slight attempt, as a rule, to keep up a thorough\\ntillage. The best of the fields are gone ov^er each year and a scanty harvest\\ngleaned, and it ma\\\\- be questioned if equal labor on fewer acres would not\\nproduce greater results. The surplus buildings of the now depopulated vil-\\nlage receive slight care, and time and decay deal hardly with them. The\\nHOLDING THE HORSES WHILE HIS FATHER GOES IN TO GET A DRINK OF V/ATER\\nbest of them serve as storage places for farm crops or tools. The more\\nbroken-down are levied upon occasionally for a few boards to mend a fence\\nor a leak in one of the neighboring buildings, and so is hastened their time\\nof complete ruin.\\nSome places have won the favor of the summer visitors, and so have\\ngained renewed prosperity. A few weeks sojourn far from the heat and\\nnoise of the city on these quiet, breezy hill-tops is no small pleasure, and\\nmany a person of means takes pride in the cottage home he has bought\\nin some nook he thinks especially favored by nature, and looks forward all\\nthrough the lengthening days of the spring to the time when he can unlock\\nits door once more, wind the clock in the hall, and settle himself with his", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0058.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0059.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0060.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n43\\nA DAM ON THE CONNECTICUT\\nfamil} for the earl} vacation. He finds not a little fussing and fixing to\\nemi)lo\\\\ him about the place, and he saunters forth in his oldest suit, when the\\nnotion takes him, to talk with his neighbors the farmers. The chances are he\\ngets off his coat and renews his }^outh by hel[)ing in the ha\\\\ -field, and\\nthere, like enough, the rest of Iiis flock hunt him out, and all have a\\nAT THE RAILROAD STATION", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0061.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "44\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ntriumphal ride on the loaded cart behind the slow-moving^ oxen to the\\nbarn.\\nWhen the summer visitor came up from the railroad station on the\\ntrain, he noted the enticing look of the little streams in the hollows, and\\nIE OUTSKIRTS OF A GROWING FACTORY VILLAGE\\nthe tinkling murmur of the waterfalls sounded in his ear a call to get\\nforth his fishing-rod. He was not long settled in his vacation home before\\nthe fishing-tackle was forthcoming, and he might be seen with vast caution\\nand seriousness following up the neighboring brook through the tangled\\nwoods, and across the pastures among the rank-growing ferns and grasses,\\ncasting the fly and trailing it after tlie most approved fashion along the\\nsurface of the water, and perchance, if destiny favored, pulling forth at times\\na dainty little trout. The streams are so thoroughly fished that at finger-\\nlength, in the more accessible regions, the fish is esteemed a prize. Driv-\\ning is always in order. There are glens, and waterfalls, and high hills with\\nwonderfully far outlooks, and delightful winding valleys, to visit almost without\\nnumber.\\nOn Sunday the summer visitor goes to the village church. Perhaps\\nthe services are not as brilliant as those to which he is used, but there is", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0062.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n45\\na comfortable simplicity to the place, the people, the sermon, and the singing\\nwhich charms. The visitor is often a ready and valued helper in making the\\nchurch and its belongings more attractive, and takes an interest in the schools\\nand library and appearance of the town, which to many a place has been\\nof great assistance. The vacation which includes, beside the ordinary out-\\ndoor pleasuring, some of this sort of helpfulness gives a multiplied satisfaction\\nat its close.\\nThe country dwellers of New England are not to-day, in the mass, as\\nstrong charactered and vigorously intelligent as were those of the early part\\nof the century. Those elements have found greater attraction and greater\\nchance of reward elsewhere. It often happens that thrift seems to dwell\\nrather with recent comers from across the water than with the older families.\\nTHE RAILV/AY-CROSSING IN THE VILLAGE\\nThis is sometimes claimed to be because the first will live more meanly than\\nthe latter could bring themselves to. The truth is, the new-comers have no\\npride of family name to sustain, they know attainment rests only on hard work,\\nand their secret of success lies more in their steady labor and good business\\nhabits than in any meanness of living. The scions of the old families are\\nlooser in their methods and more reckless and showy, and far less given to", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0063.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "46\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nvigorous work. They may be heard to bewail over this foreign element as\\nusurpers; but in reality comers of thrift and intelligence, whatever their former\\nhomes, are a help to the town life. Hard work, saving habits, and the aspira-\\ntion to give the children of the family an education, has a healthful effect on\\ncharacter, and win oftentimes for those growing up in these homes culture\\nand practical abilit} equalling the best of that of the older families. If a\\nA STONE BRIDGE\\nforeign family takes up with some little house on the outskirts, it ma} live\\nvery shabbih- for the first few years. But the land about is graduall}- brought\\nunder full and thrift) tillage, little sheds begin to spring up behind the house,\\nby and by a barn is built, and then the house is made over and an L added,\\nand the progress toward prosperity as presented to the e\\\\-e is a thing to be\\nadmired. It is almost always the remnants of the worn out Yankee families\\nwhich come on the town, and not these foreigners.\\nYankee has become almost a synonym for ingeniousness, thrift, and\\ncuteness. You can t scare him; get him in a tight place and he will", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0064.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n47\\nfind a way out; set him a task and he will find some way to do it in half\\nthe time you expected; make him the butt of a joke and he will get even\\nwith you and pay heavy interest; no matter what part of the earth you trans-\\nplant him to or the conditions you surround him with, he accommodates\\nhimself to the new circumstances, and proceeds with alacrity to financially\\nprofit by them. He is a born arguer, and a born pedler, and a born whittler,\\na Jack-at-all-tradcs and good at them all.\\nThis, it may be, is the typical Yankee, and without a doubt such can\\nbe found but not every inhabitant of New England is made that way.\\nYankees are of all kinds, and the abilities, virtues, and short-comings are\\nmuch mixed in the parcelling out. The Yankee is a man of opinions, and\\nshows great readiness to impart them to others; but the depth or shallowness\\nof these depends on the man. He is inclined to slow speaking and nasal\\ntones, and when a question is asked has a way of turning it over in his\\nmind once or twice before he gives answer, often improving the interval to\\nspit seriously and meditatively. In bargaining, wiiatever the amount involved,\\nhe is given to dickering, crying down, or upholding the price, according", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0065.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "48\\nTHH NHJV tlNGLAND COUNTRY\\nas he is bu\\\\ cr or seller. The thrifty man is sometimes simpl\\\\ the man\\nof push and ability sometimes the miseih man who drives sharp bargains\\nand forecloses mortgages when his\\npoor neighbors arc in tiouble, and\\nsells hard cider to the drinkers\\nor he may be one of high stand-\\ning in church and communit\\\\% who,\\ntlunigh stickling for fairness, is sure\\nto bu\\\\ low and sell high who is\\nup at sunrise in summer and long\\nbefore daylight in winter; who\\nmakes long days and fills them\\nwith hard work, and is esteemed a hard master by sons and hired men who\\nlives frugally, and when it comes to spending, as the saying goes, squeezes\\nthe dollar uiitil the eagle squeals.\\nAs a rule New England country people save nothing above expenses,\\nand even then, spending all they earn, can have few more than the most\\ncommon comforts o. life, and rarely a luxury. Circumstance or some un-\\ntoward accident of fate may bring this result, but an unstriving lack of\\nthrift is more frequently the cause. Those of this class have a way of\\nbeing always a little behind in what they do, and there is a dragging want\\nA WAYSIDE WATERING-TROUGH\\nA COUNTRY SCHOOL WATCHING A TRAIN GO BY", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0066.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n49\\nof vitalit) in what thc\\\\- attempt. The) arc a little late in planting, a\\nlittle late in harxesting. They never get full crops, and fall below the\\nbest always in qualit\\\\ and are apt to suffer loss through frost or foul\\nweather. The stitch in time which saves nine about their buildings tliey\\nE^^}^^^^*^^-^* K-\\nWd\\nAN OLD BURYING-GROUND\\ndo not take, and these buildings lose boards here and there, and presently\\nbegin to sag and need a prop to keep them from coming down prone. So\\ncrops, and animals, and farm-tools are ill-protected, and there is increased loss.\\nAs compared with the typical Southerner, the Yankee has less warmth\\nof enthusiasm, less open-heartedness and chivalry, but he is steadier and has\\ngreater staying- power. The ne er-do-well class of the North may wear their\\nhearts on their sleeves and be as free as air in their kindliness and generosity,\\nbut Yankee thrift, however generous or philanthropic, is self-controlled and\\ninclined to be reticent and politic. But though this may lessen the charm\\nand poetry of it, there is no doubting its increased effectiveness.\\nThrift is apt to become with the well-to-do a sort of passion The", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0067.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "50\\nTHE NHIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nlack of it in a neighbor stirs continued and sarcastic criticism. On the\\nother hand, thrift easily runs into closeness; but the worshipper of thrift is\\nnot mean and entirely selfish in this regard. It is a pleasure to him to see\\nwell-tilled fields, even if they belong to others, and he has the wish to make\\nwhat attracts him general. The rich at their death often leave their fortunes\\nin whole or in part to some charity or educational institution which will\\nfurther a more general thrift.\\nIn stories of New England village-life we find a curious dialect used\\nby the characters. Ouaintness and uncouthness are both prominent. To\\nBELOW THE DAM\\none thoroughly acquainted with its people these stories savor of exaggera-\\ntion and caricature. Ignorance everywhere uses bad grammar, whether in\\ntown or countr}-, New England or elsewhere. Isolation tends also to careless\\nspeech. But the New hinglander has not either, as a rule, to so marked a\\ndegree as to make him the odd specimen of humanity pictured in books. Eife\\nin the small villages and on the outlying farms does not present very numer-\\nous social advantages, and the result is a necessity for depending on one s\\nown resources. This, with those possessed of some mental vigor, de\\\\ elops\\nindividuality of thought and stable and forceful character. In the t^wns it\\nrequires the consultation and help of about half a dozen friends for a young", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0068.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY.\\n51\\nA MASSACHUSETTS MOUNTAIN\\nperson to accomplish any i;iven object, great or small. On the farm, where\\nneighbors are few, the boy or girl does his or her own thinking and\\nworking. Such have more pith and point to their brain movement, and in\\nafter life under as favoring circumstances will accomplish more.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0069.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "52\\nTHh: NHIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nIndiviclualit}^ expresses itself in manner and speech as well as thouij^ht,\\nand odd ways and queer ideas and pecidiar observations are to be met\\nwith ver\\\\ commonly in the New 2ngland country. The heav} work brings\\na certain amount of clumsiness with the strength. The rough clothes usually\\nworn, and the slight care given them, often make an individual grotesque,\\nA FALL ON THE CONNECTICUT\\nand the majority of the workers attain to the picturesque in their costumes\\nwith their variety of patched and faded oldncss. A peculiarity of recent\\nyears has come with the fashion of derby hats. There is a naturalness\\nabout an old slouch hat, however ancient, stained, and misshapen. If it does\\nnot grow old gracefully, it at least docs so logically and without reminding\\nthe beholder of a more exalted past. But the battered and leaky derby\\nretains to the last a stiff look of aristocracy which ill fits its dilapidated\\nseediness.\\nBut whether a man is uncouth or not depends on other things than\\nhis occupation. Neatness is a growth from within rather than from without,\\nand though no sensible farmer works in his Sunday clothes on week-days,", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0070.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0071.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0072.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n55\\nTHE GROWING BOY IN HIS\\nLAST YEAR S CLOTHES\\nthere are many by whom you arc agreeably impressed, no\\nmatter where you meet them. A look from the car win-\\ndow on a rainy day, as you pause at the villages on\\nyour route, reveals a curious motley group hanging about\\nthe platform. The depot is a favorite resort on stormy\\ndays when work is slack on the farm but loafing is not\\ncharacteristic of the best of the community, and it is\\nhardly fair to judge all by the specimens who here pre-\\nsent themselves.\\nIndoors, where presides the housewife, we expect\\nto find neatness in supreme rule, for the New England\\nwoman has in that a wide repute. It is to be doubted\\nif the old-time shining and spotless interiors which the\\ngrandmothers tell about are as universal now as for-\\nmerl\\\\ But house-cleanings come with great regularity\\nin most families, and the consumption of brooms and\\nscrubbing-brushes in New England is something enormous. With the advent\\nof wall-paper and carpets and the great variety of furniture and knick-knacks\\nnow within reach, has come a discontent with the old simplicity, and the\\nchanges are often not pleasing. Taste runs too much in wall-paper and\\ncarpets to dark colors\\nand pronounced patterns,\\nand the rooms appear\\nboxy. If much money\\nis spent on furniture it\\nis apt to be spent on\\nstyle rather than on sub-\\nstantial and quiet com-\\nfort. The pictures on\\nthe walls are usually a\\nqueer collection, from\\nit would be hard to im-\\nagine where of colored\\nprints, engravings cut\\nfrom newspapers, and\\nphotographs of deceased at the back-door", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0073.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "56\\nTHE NE]V ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nmembers of the family. The science of house decoration is something very\\nmodern, and it will take time to learn how to do it simply and harmoni-\\nously.\\nLife s currents pursue a tangled course, and while we catch many\\nstrains of harmony, there are discordant notes of which we rarely get entirely\\nout of hearing. New England is not perfect, but once to have known is always\\nrHE ACADEMY\\nto love it, no matter how far one wanders or how fair new regions open\\nbefore one s eyes. Its changing seasons, its rugged hills and tumbling streams,\\nits winding roadways, its villages and little farms, cling in the memory and\\nsing siren songs of enticement. Nature is sometimes harsh, but she has\\nmany moods, and nowhere more than here and if harsh sometimes, she is\\nat other times exceeding sweet. In cold or heat, storm or sunshine, New\\nEneland s rouuh fields are still the true Arcadia to her sons and daughters.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0074.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n57\\nPART III\\nA HORSE-CHESTNUT MAN\\nNEW ENGLAND AS THE TRAVELLER SEES IT\\nO really sec and know New England one must leave the railroads\\nand take time for a long tramp or drive. Railroads are only\\nintended to link together the cities and larger towns, and they\\nseek the level and monotonous for their routes, and pursue\\nalwa} s as straight and j^rosaic a course as circumstances\\nwill admit. The view from the windows of ragged banks\\nof earth or rock, where a path has been cut through a\\nhill, or of the sand}- embankments, where a hollow has\\nbeen filled, and of pastures, swamps, and stumpy, brushy\\nacres, where the timber has lately been cut off, are often\\ndismal. At the same time the real country as seen\\nfrom the winding, irregular roadways that link the\\nvillages and scattered farms together may be quite\\ncheerful and pleasing.\\nWith the purpose of seeing the real New England in its highways\\nand byways, its hills and val-\\nleys, its nooks and corners, I\\nstarted out one autumn da)\\non a buckboard. I had a\\nlittle bay horse, fat and good-\\nnatured, quite content to stop\\nas often and long as I chose,\\nand to busy herself nibbling\\nthe grass and bushes by the\\nroadside, while I sketched or\\nphotographed. She had a\\ndecided disinclination for fast\\ntravelling, and wanted to walk\\nAFTERGLOW", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0075.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "58\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nas soon as a hill came in sight. But I wished to go slowly in the main,\\nand we got along very agreeably, thougli at times I fear ni}- remarks and\\nhints to the creature between the shafts were not complimentary or pleasing\\nto that animal. Houses where one could get a lunch at noon were not\\nalways handy, and I took the precaution to carr\\\\ along some eatables for\\nmyself and a few feeds of oats for the horse.\\nTHE VILLAGE CHURCH\\nIt was nine o clock when I left Old Hadley in Central Massachusetts\\nand turned northward up the valley. A cold wind was blowing, and man\\\\-\\ngray cloud-masses were sailing overhead. The region about was one of the\\nfairest in New England, a wide, fertile valley basin stretching twent} miles in\\neither direction. The Connecticut River loops through it with many graceful\\ncurves, and blue ranges of hills bound it on every side. At intervals of\\nabout ten miles on this level you come upon the few scores of houses,\\nwhich cluster about the churches at the centre of- the towns, and there are\\nmany little hamlets where are lesser groups of homes.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0076.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THH NHIV ENGLAND COUNTKY\\n59\\nONE OF THE HUMBLER HOUSES\\nI was jogging across\\nsome meadows, when I came\\nto a few houses flanked b\\\\\\nnumerous out-buildings and\\nhalf hidden b\\\\ the trees about\\nthem. Some chiklren were by\\nthe roadside. The\\\\- had rakes\\nand a big basket, and were\\nintent on gathering the maple\\nleaves which carpeted the\\nground. The\\\\- stopped to\\nwatch me as I approachetl.\\nTake m picture,\\ncried a stout little girl, and then threw the basket over her head and struck\\nan attitude.\\nAll right, was m\\\\- reply.\\nOh she said, I want my cat in, and raced off to the house\\nto secure it.\\nShe was no sooner back and in position than she found a new trouble.\\nShe had on a little cap with a ver\\\\- narrow visor, and as the sun had now\\ncome out, its bright light made her eyes wink. Suddenly she spoke up\\nand said the little cap made her cry, and wanted to get a hat, if I\\nwould let her. When she returned I made haste to snap the camera before\\nan) other ideas could occur to her. We were pretty well acquainted by\\nthe time I finished, and she\\nwanted to know how much I\\ncharged for my picture, and\\nsaid she guessed she would\\nget one if I came that way\\nagain.\\nThe town of Sunderland\\nlay a little beyond. It is a\\ntypical valle} town, with a\\nlong, wide street lined by\\nelms and maples, thickset on\\nA DESERTED HOME citlicr sidc b the white", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0077.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "6o\\nTHE NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n^\u00e2\u0096\u00a0S^BEs-SAt^PTHL\\nGETTING A LOAD OF SAWDUST BACK OF THE SAW-MILL\\nhouses of its people. KverytliinL^ looked thrift} and well kept. The wind\\nblew gustily, and sometimes would start the leaves which had just begun to\\nstrew the ground beneath and send\\nwindrows of them scurrying along\\nthe road like live armies on a\\ncharge.\\nI was in the vilhige in the\\nlate afternoon, when school let out.\\nIt was interesting to note the w a\\\\-\\nthe bo} s came down the street\\nslanmiing about, shouting, and trip-\\nping each other up. It seemed to\\nme there was one sort of oung-\\nstcr who had need to reform. You find this variety in every village where\\nhalf a dozen boys can get together. He talks in a loud voice when any\\nwitnesses or a stranger is about, is rude to his fellows, jostles tliem and\\norders them about, cracks crude jokes, either e.\\\\ceedingl\\\\- pointless, or else of\\ngreat age and worn threadbare, at which\\nhe himself has to do a good share of the\\nlaughing. He is, in short, showing off,\\n^j#- and the show is a ery poor one. He\\nmakes himself both disagreeable cuui ridicu-\\nlous to most, and can onl\\\\- win admiration\\nfrom a few weak-mindctl comiKuiions or\\noverawed small boys.\\nHe is apt to grow\\ninto something of a\\nbull} among those\\nweaker than himself,\\nand to become, when\\nolder, a }^oung man\\nwith a swagger.\\nIt was October,\\nthe days were short,\\nand I had early to seek a stopping-place for the night. It still lacked\\nsomething of supper-time when I put my horse out at one of the farm-\\nA MEADOW STREAM", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0078.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n6i\\nhouses, and I took the opportunity for a walk on the village street. The\\ndamp gloom of evening had settled down. There were lights in the windows\\nand movements at the barns, and a team or two was jogging homeward\\nalong the road. Westward, in plain sight across the river, was the heavy\\nspur of a mountain, dark against the evening sky. A single little light was\\ntrembling on the summit of the crag. This came from a building known\\nas the prospect house. The proprietor lives there the year around, and\\nfrom Sunderland s snug street, on cold winter nights, the light is still to be\\nseen sending out shivering rays into the frosty darkness.\\n^v \u00e2\u0099\u00a6V\\n^-.A-.!^. J 43-y f\\nA HOME UNDER THE ELMS\\nI returned presently to the house and had supper. That finished, the\\nsmall bo) of the family brought a cu^) of boiled chestnuts, and while we\\nmunched them, explained how he had picked up eighty-one quarts of nuts\\nso far that year. In his })ocket the boy had other treasures. He pulled\\nforth a handful of horse-chestnuts, and told me they grew on a little tree\\ndown by the burying-ground.\\nThe boys up at our school make men of em, he said. They\\ntake one chestnut and cut a face on it like you do on a pumpkin for a\\njack-o -lantern. That s the head. Then they take a bigger one and cut\\ntwo or three places in front for buttons, and make holes to stick in", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0079.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "62 THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ntoothpicks for legs, and thc\\\\ stick in more for arms, ami with a little short\\npiece fasten the head on the body. Then they put em up on the stove-\\npipe where the teacher can t get cm, and they sta\\\\ there all day. Some-\\nA DOOR-STEP GROUP\\ntimes the\\\\^ make caps for cm. He got out his jack-knife and spent the\\nrest of the evening manufacturing these queer little men for ni} benefit.\\nThe next morning I turned eastward and went along the quiet,\\npleasant roads, now in the woods, now among pastures where the wayside\\nhad grown up to an everchanging hedge of bushes and trees. Aluch of\\nthe way was uphill, and I sometimes came out on open slopes which gave\\nfar-away glimpses over the valley I had left behind.\\nAbout noon I stopped to sketch one of the picturesque watering-\\ntroughs of the region. There was a house close by, and a motherly look-\\ning old lad} peeked out at me from the door to discover what I was up\\nto. I asked if I might stay to dinner. She said I might if I would\\nbe content with their fare, and I drove around to the barn. An old gentle-", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0080.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY.\\n6^\\nmail and his hired man were pounding and prying at a big rock which\\nprotruded above the surface right before the wagon-shed. They liad blasted\\nit, and were now getting out the fragments. By the time I had my horse\\nput out, dinner was ready, and we all went into the house. We had a\\nboiled dinner, potatoes, fat pork, cabbage, beets, and squash all cooked\\ntogether. The dish was new to me, but I found it quite eatable.\\nI was again on the road, jogging comfortabl) along, when I noticed\\ntwo little people coming across a field close by. They walked hand in\\nhand, and each carried a tin pail of apples. The boy was a stout little\\nfellow, and the girl, a few sizes smaller, very fat and pudgy and much\\nbundled up. I told them I d like to take their pictures. They didn t know\\nwhat to make of that but I got to work, and they stood by the fence\\nlooking at me very seriously. I was nearly readv when a woman from the\\ndoorway of a house a little ways back called out, Go right along, Georgie\\nDon t stop! I told her I wanted to make their photographs it wouldn t\\ntake but a minute. She said they ought to be dressed up more for that.\\nBut I said they looked verv nice as they were, and hastened to get my\\npicture. Then the two went toddling on. The boy\\ntold me there was a big pile of apples back there \u00e2\u0096\u00a05%.=^\\\\\\nalso, as I was starting away, that his father had just \\\\f^ ^}\\\\\u00c2\u00bbS^h^\\nbought a horse.\\nI took the sandy long hill way toward Shutes-\\nbury, a place famous for miles about for its\\nhuckleberry crops. It is jokingly said that\\nthis is its chief source of wealth, and the\\nstory goes that One year the huckleberry\\ncrop failed up in Shutesbury, and the people\\nhad nothin to live on and were all comin\\non to the town, and the selectmen were so\\nscared at the responsibility, they all run\\naway.\\nThe scattered houses began to dot the way as I proceeded, and after\\na time I saw the landmarks of the town centre the two churches, perched on\\nthe highest, barest hilltop eastward. The sun was getting low, and chilly even-\\ning was settling down. Children were coming home from school men, who had\\nbeen away, were returning to do up their work about the house and barn\\nA ROADSIDE FRIEND", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0081.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "64\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nbefore supper, and a boy was driving his cows down the street. T hurried\\non over the hill and trotted briskU- down into the valle\\\\ beyond, but it\\nwas not long before the road again turned upward. The woods were all\\nabout. In the pine groves, which grew in patches along the way, tlie ground\\nwas carpeted with needles, and the wheels and horse s hoofs became almost\\nnoiseless. There were openings now and then through the trunks and leaf-\\nage, and I could look far away to the north-east, and see across a wide\\nvalley the tree-covered ridges patched with evergreens, and the ruddy oak\\nfoliage rolling away into ranges of distant blue, ami, be\\\\-ond all. Mount\\nMonadnock s heavy pyramid. The sun was behind the hill I was climbing,\\nand threw a massive purple shadow over the vallc) lieyond, the ridges\\nBETTER THAN HOEING ON A HOT DAY\\nwere flooded with clear autumn sunlight. Far off could be seen houses, and\\na church now and then bits of white, to} -like, in the distance. The east-\\nward shadows lengthened, the light in the woods grew cooler and grayer,\\nand just as I was fearing darkness would close down on me in the woods,\\nI turned a corner and the hill was at an end. There were houses close\\nahead, and off to the left two church steeples.\\nThis was New Salem. The place had no tavern, but I was directed\\nto one of the farm-houses which was in the habit of keeping transients.\\nThere v/as only a boy at home. His folks were awa\\\\ and he had built a\\nfire in the kitchen and was fussing around, keeping an e\\\\ e on the window\\nin expectation of the coming of the home team. It arrived soon after,\\nand in came his mother and sister, who had been to one of the valley\\ntowns trading and visiting. The father was over at the other farm, but\\nhe came in a little later. Mrs. Cogswell told of the day s happenings, and", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0082.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0083.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0084.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n67\\nhow she had found a knife by the roadside. It was kind of stuck up,\\nand she said she would bet some old tobacco-chewer owned it. However,\\nMr. Cogswell, having smelt of it, guessed not.\\nHis wife now brought in a blanket she had bought at the Boston\\nStore, and we all examined it, felt of it, and guessed what it was worth.\\nTHE PET OF THE FARM\\nThen she told what she paid, and how cheap she could get various other\\nthings, and what apples would bring.\\nAs we sat chatting after supper, Mr. Cogswell took out his watch and\\nbegan to wind it. It was of the Waterbury variety, and winding took a\\nlong time, and gave him a chance to discourse of watches in general, and\\nof this kind in particular. Frank had such a watch, he said, and he took\\nit to pieces and it was about all spring.\\nYou never saw such a thing, said Mrs. Cogswell. Why, it sprung\\nout as long as this table.\\nHo, as long as this table! said Mr. Cogswell; it would reach way", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0085.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "68\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nacross the room. He said his own watch kept very good time as a gen-\\neral thing, onl) it needed winchng twice a day.\\nI was out earl\\\\ the next morning. The east still held some soft rose\\nTHE BIG BARN-DOOR\\ntints, streaks of fog lingered in the valley, and the frost still whitened the\\ngrass. After breakfast I went northward, down through the woods and pas-\\ntures, int() Miller s valle} I followed a winding ravine in which a mountain\\nbrook went roaring over its uneven bed toward the lowlantl. I came into\\nthe open again at the little village of Wendell Depot. It was a barren\\nlittle clearing. I found, wooded hills all about, a railroad running through,\\nseveral bridges, and a dam with its rush and roar of water; a broad i)ond\\nlay above, and below, the water foamed and struggled and slid away beneath\\nthe arches of a mossy stone bridge, and hurried on to pursue its winding\\nway to the Connecticut. There was a wooden mill by the stream-side. It\\nwas a big, square structure with dirt\\\\ walls and staring rows of windows.\\nNo trees were about, only the ruins of a burned paper-mill, whose sentinel\\nchimney still stood, a blackened monument of the fire. There were a few\\nof the plain houses built by the mill for its help, a hotel, some sand-banks,\\na foreign population, a dark, hurrying river, the roar of a dam, long lines of\\nfreight-cars moving through, and grim hills reaching awa) toward the sky.\\nP rom here I went westward, and in the earl} afternoon crossed the\\nConnecticut River and began to follow up the valley of the Deerfield. I", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0086.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n69\\nhad to go over a big mountain ridge, but after that had comparatively level\\ntravelling. I went on till long after sunset, and presently inquired of a man\\nI met walking if there were houses on ahead. He said Solomon Hobbs\\nowned the nearest place, and lived up a big hill a ways off the main road.\\nA little after I met a team, and concluded to make more definite inquiry.\\nCan you tell me where Mr. Hobbs lives? I asked.\\nWho, John? he questioned as he pulled in his horse.\\nNo, Solomon, I replied.\\nOh, er, Solly He lives right up the hill here. Turn off the next\\nroad and go to the first house.\\nIt was quite dark now, and when I came to the steep, rough rise of\\nthe hill I got out and walked and led the horse. In time I saw a light\\nTHE BOY WHO MOWS AWAY\\non ahead, and I drove into the steep yard. I had my doubts about stop-\\nping there when I saw how small the house and barn were. A man responded\\nto my knock on the door and acknowledged to the name of Solomon Hobbs.\\nHe was a tall, broad-shouldered, long-bearded farmer, apparently about fifty\\nyears of age He had on heavy boots and was in his checked shirt-\\nsleeves. He didn t know about keeping me overnight, but their supper was", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0087.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "70\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\njust ready, and I might .stay to that if I wanted to. He directed me to\\nhitch m\\\\ horse to a post of the piazza and come in. On a low table was\\nspread a scant} meal. Codfish was the most prominent dish on the board.\\nAfter eating, I was ushered into the little parlor, for they had certain pictures of\\nthe scenery thereabout they wished me to see. Mr. Hobbs brought along his\\nlantern and set it on the mantel-piece. It remained there though Mrs. Hobbs\\ncame in and lit a gaudy hanging-lamp. She was a straight little woman\\nwith short hair, rather curly and brushed up, wore earrings, did nut speak\\nSUMMER SUNLIGHT IN A GORGE ROAD\\nreadily, and acted as if her head did not work first-rate. The little boy,\\nwho was the third member of the family, came in also. There was an iron,\\nopen fireplace with charred sticks, ashes, and rubbish in it. The carpet on\\nthe floor seemed not to be tacked down, and it gathered itself up in bunches\\nand folds. The sofa and marble-topped centre-table and many of the chairs\\nwere filled with papers, books, boxes, and odds and ends.\\nThere was some doubt as to where the pictures were, and it required\\nconsiderable hunting in books and albums and cupboards and boxes and top-\\nshelves to produce them. I did not notice that they put up any of the things\\nthey pulled down. Mr. Hobbs said of his wife that she had been in poor", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0088.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n71\\nONE UF THL LITTLE RIVERS\\nhealth for a year past, and hadn t been able to keep thin-s in order. When\\nI had examined the pictures I -ot read to start on. Mr. Hobbs said there\\nwas a hotel a mile up the road. T unhitched m horse, and the little boy,\\nwith a lantern, ran before me and -uided me through the gateway.\\nAt the hotel, when I had made the horse comfortable in the barn T\\nbetook myself to the bar-room, where a brisk open fire was burning. A number\\nof men were loafing there, most of them smoking. One was a tall, stout-\\nfigured man who was always read)- to back his opinion with a bet of a\\ncertain number of dollars, and quoted knowledge gained a year when he was\\nselectman to prove statements about the worth of farms.\\nThe proprietor of the place was a young man, with small eyes rather\\nred with smoke or something else, a prominent beaklike nose, a mustache,\\nand receding chin. He had an old, straight, short coat on, and he had thin\\nlegs, and looked very much like some sort of a large bird. He had a very\\nsure way of speaking, and emphasized this sureness by the manner in which\\nhe would withdraw his cigar, half close his little eyes, and puft forth a thin\\nstream of tobacco smoke.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0089.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "7^\\nTHR NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nIn tlic niorninL^ I was out just as the sun looked over some cloud\\nlayers at the eastern horizon and brightened up the misty landscape. I left\\nthe hotel, and soon was on my way up the Deerfield River into the moun-\\ntains. It was a fine da\\\\ clear at first, and with man\\\\ gray clouds sailing\\nlater. I jogged on up and down the little hills on the road which kept\\nl^i\u00c2\u00ab\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^J:^. jjiswxw Aki^\\nTHE VILLAGE GROCERYMAN\\nalong the winding course of the river. All the way was hemmed in b\\\\\\ngreat wooded ridges which kept falling Ijchiiid, their places to be filled by\\nnew ones at every turn. The stream made its noisy way over its rough\\nbed, and ever\\\\ now and then a freight train would go ])anting up the grade\\ntoward the Hoosac Tunnel, or a passenger train in swifter flight would sweep\\naround the curve and hurr} away to the world beyond.\\nA little off the road in one place was a log house, a sight so unusual\\nin old Massachusetts that such rare ones as one may come across always\\nhave a special air of romance and interest about them. This had a pleasant\\nsituation on a level, scooped out by nature from the lofty ridge which over-\\nshadowed it. It was made of straight, small logs, laid up cob-fashion, chinked\\nwith pieces of boards and made snugger with plaster on the inside. It had\\na steep roof of overlapping boards, through which a length of rusty stove-\\npipe reached upwards and smoked furiously. There was a spring before the", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0090.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n73\\ndoor, which sent quite a httlc stream of water through a V-shaped trough\\ninto an old tlour-barreh There were some stragghng apple-trees about, and\\nbehind the house a little slab barn. Inside was a bare room, floored with\\nunplaned boards. There was a bed in one corner, a pine table in another,\\nand a rude ladder led to a hole in the upper flooring, where was a second\\nroom. The only occupant then about was cooking dinner on the rusty\\nstove. Light found its way through two square windows and through certain\\ncracks and crevices in the wall.\\nI followed the rapid river, on, up among the wild tumble of mountains\\nwhich raised their gloomy rock-ribbed forms on every side. The regions\\nseemed made by Titans, and for the home of rude giants, not of men.\\nPresentl} a meadow opened before me, and across it la\\\\^ the little village of\\nHoosac. The great hills swept up skyward from the level, and here and\\nthere in the cleared places you could see bits of houses perched on the\\nAN OUTLYING VILLAGE\\ndizzy slope, and seeming as if they might get loose and come sliding down\\ninto the valley almost any day.\\nAt the tunnel was a high railroad bridge spanning the river, a long\\nfreight train waiting, a round signal station, a few houses, and the lines of\\niron rails running into the gloomy aperture in the side of the hill. This\\nwas in a sort of ravine, and so somewhat secluded and holding little sug-", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0091.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "74\\nTHE NFW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ngestion of its enormous length of over four miles. Some sheep were feed-\\ning on a grass}- hillside just across the track, and looking back upon them\\nthe\\\\- made a very pretty contrast to the wild scenery. The hills mounded\\nup all aljout; the sun in the west silvered the water of the rapid river; a\\ntrain waiting below the iron span of the bridge sent up its wavering white\\nplume of smoke; and here on the near grassy slope were the sheep quietl\\\\-\\nfeeding.\\nThe road wound on through the same romantic wildness now a\\nmountain would shoot up a peak steeper and higher than those surrounding;\\nbut none of them seemed to have names. As one of the inhabitants ex-\\npressed it, They are too common round here to make any fuss over.\\nIn the late afternoon, after a hard climb up the long hills, I passed\\nMonroe Bridge, where in the deep ravine was a large paper-mill. The road\\nbeyond was muddy and badly cut up by teams, and progress was slow. I\\nexpected to spend the night at Monroe Church, which I understood was three\\nmiles farther up, but I got off the direct route and on to one of the side\\nroads. The sun had disappeared behind the hills and a gray gloom was\\nsettling down. The road kept getting worse. It was full of ruts and bog-", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0092.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE NEV/ ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n75\\nholes. Like most of the roads of the region, the way followed up a hol-\\nlow, and had a brook by its side choked up with great boulders. I came\\nfr\\nTHE OLD WELL-SWEEP\\nupon bits of snow, and thought there were places where I could scrape up a\\nvery respectable Snowball\\nAfter a time I met a team and stopped to inquire the way to the\\nchurch, and the distance. The fellow hailed had a grocery wagon, and no doubt\\nhad been delivering goods. He seemed greatly pleased by my question in\\nfact, was not a little overcome, showed a white row of teeth beneath his\\nmustache, and he quite doubled up in his amusement. He said he did not\\nknow where the church was and he guessed I wasn t much acquainted up\\nin these parts said he wasn t either. He stopped to laugh between every\\nsentence. He apparently thought he was the only man from the outside\\nworld who ever visited these regions, and now was tickled to death to find\\nanother fellow had blundered into his district. There was no church about\\nthere, he said I must be pretty badly mixed up this was South Readsboro\\nVermont. This is the end of the earth, he said. He kept on laughing as\\nhe contemplated me, and I got away up the road as soon as I could, while\\nhe, still chuckling to himself, drove down.\\nThe snow patches become larger and more numerous, and soon I", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0093.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "76\\nTHE NEU^ ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ncame into an open and saw a village np the hill. This was October,\\nand the sight ahead was strange and weird. The roofs of the buildings were\\nwhite with snow there were scattered patches of it all about, and a high\\npasture southward was completely covered. It seemed as if I had left reali-\\nties behind as if in some way I was an explorer in the regions of the far\\nnorth as if here was a little town taken complete possession of by the frost\\nas if no life could remain, and I would find the houses deserted or the in-\\nhabitants all frozen and dead. There was a little saw-mill here and some\\nbig piles of boards everywhere marks of former life but the premature frost\\nseemed to have settled down like a shroud on all about. I entered the\\nvillage and found a man working beside a house, and learned from him\\nthat I had still three miles to travel before I came to the church.\\nI took a steep southward road and led the horse, with frequent rests,\\nup the hills.\\nbeen fast gath-\\nset colors had\\nbright star\\nwest, and at its\\ncloud mass\\nfrom the hori-\\nboring field s\\nIN HAYING TIME\\nDarkness had\\nering, the un-\\nfa d e d one\\nglowed in the\\nright a gloomy\\nr e a c h e d u p\\nzon. The ncigh-\\not more and\\nmore snow-covered, until the black ribbon of the mudd\\\\ road was about the\\nonl\\\\ thing which marred their whitc-ness. There were rocky pastures about,\\nintermitting with patches of woodland. Here and there were stifi dark lines\\nof spruce along the hilltops, and these, with the white pastures, made the\\ncountry seem like a bit of Norway. Snow clung to the evergreen arms of\\nthe spruces and whitened the upper fence-rails, and the mudd} trail of the\\nroad ceased in the crisp whiteness.\\nI was going through a piece of woods when I saw a house aheatl\\nwith a glow of light in a window. I went past the friendly light. The\\ndreary road still stretched on. No church was in sight, and I drew up and\\nran back to the house. A man came to the back door with a lamp. He\\nsaid it was still two miles to the church, and I asked if I might stay over-\\nnight. Soon I had my horse in the yard and was comfortabl}- settled by\\nthe kitchen fire. The kitchen was large, but the long table, the stove, a\\nbed, and the other furniture made it rather cramped when the whole family", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0094.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n77\\nwere indoors. There were grandpa, and grandma, and Hen and his wife,\\nand Bucky, and Sherm, and Sis, and Dan, and little Harry, not\\nto mention a big dog and several cats. After supper, grandma fell to\\nknitting with some yarn of her own spinning grandpa smoked his pipe and\\ntold bear stories; Hen mended a broken ramrod so that his gun mifTht\\nbe ready for a coon hunt he was planning; Mrs. Hen sewed; Sherm\\nand Bucky were in a corner trying to swap hats, neckties, etc., and Sis\\nwas helping them; Dan ran some bullets which he made out of old lead-pipe\\nmelted in the kitchen fire; and Harr} circulated all about, and put the cats\\nthrough a hole cut for them in the cellar door, and climbed on the chairs\\nalong the walls, and picked away the plastering at sundry places where the\\nlath was beginning to show through.\\nBedtime came at nine and I was given a little room partitioned off in\\nthe unfinished second story. In the first gray of the next morning a loud\\nsquawking commenced outside of so harsh and sudden a nature as to be quite\\nalarming to the unaccustomed ear. Later I learned this was the flock of ducks\\nTHE STREAM AND THE ELMS IN THE MEADOW", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0095.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "78\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nand geese which had gathered about the house to give a morning sahite.\\nThe wind was whistHng about, and came in rather freely at the missing\\npanes in ni} window. As soon as I heard movements below I hastened\\ndownstairs. The two fellows in the bed in the unfinished part adjoining my\\nroom were still snoozing, and there were scattered heaps of clothing about the\\nfloor.\\nThere was no one in the kitchen, and though the stove lid was off,\\nno fire had vet been started. I heard old Air. Yokes out in the back room.\\nUNDER THE OLD SYCAMORE\\nBout time ye was gettin up, he called to me.\\nYes, I said, I heard you stirring, and thought it must be about\\ntime to turn out.\\nOh, it s you, is it? I thought twas one of the boys. They didn t\\nbring in no kindlings last night.\\nHe sat down by the stove and went to whittling some shavings. He\\nhad not yet got on either shoes or stockings. One by one the rest of the", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0096.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0097.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0098.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY 81\\nfamily stragg^led in, and the fire began to glow and the heat to drive out\\nthe frostiness of the kitchen atmosphere. Outdoors the weather was threat-\\nening, and there were little drives of sleet borne down on the wings of the\\nTHE BROOK IN THE WOODS\\nwind. After breakfast I concluded to leave this land of winter and followed\\ndown one of the steep roads into the autumn region of the Deerfield x alley.\\nHy brisk travelling I succeeded by close of da} in getting to the quiet\\nmeadows along the Connecticut. It had been a five days journey. I saw\\nonly a little patch of New England, and the description is necessarily frag-\\nmentar} but at least there is presented characteristic phases of its nature and\\nlife as the traveller on a leisurely journey may see them.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0099.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "82\\nTHE NEiV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nPART IV\\nCAMPING AMONG THE NEW ENGLAND HILLS\\nTT was a warm nii;ht of midsummer. In a secluded hollow of the Green\\nMountain rant^es of lower Vermont was pitched a small white tent. A half-\\nmoon was shininij softly through the light cloud-hazes overhead, and had\\nyou been there, you could have made out the near surroundings without\\nmuch difficulty. Tall woods were all about, but here was a little open\\nwhere grasses and ferns and low bushes grew in abundance, and on a\\nchance lex^el of the steep, uneven hillside the campers had pitched their\\nTHE HOUSE WITH THE BARN ACROSS THE ROAD\\ntent. In the deep, tree-filled ravine close below was a stream, whence\\ncame the sound of its fretting among the rocks, and from a little farther\\nup the solemn pounding of a waterfall. From the other direction came a\\ndifferent sound. It was the gentle clinking of a hammer on an anvil.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0100.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n83\\nA WARM SUMMER DAY\\nOn the farther side of the narrow strip of woods, which shut it from sight,\\nwas a farmhouse, and it was thence came the sound of hammering.\\nThe tent lias two occupants. They are both oung fellows, who had\\non the day pre^^ious started from their Boston homes for a vacation trip to\\nthe woods. In the cit} they were clerks, one in a store, the other in\\na bank. The chance that brought them to this particular spot for their\\nvacation was this: a school friend of theirs, who was blessed (or perhaps\\notherwise) with more wealth than they, and who was next year to be a\\nsenior in Harvard, had informed them a few weeks previous that his folks\\nwere going to the Groveland House for the summer. This, he said, was in\\nthe centre of one of the prettiest and most delightful regions of all New\\nEngland, and he urged his friends, Clayton and Holmes, to by all means go\\nalong too. He expatiated on the beauties of the place with such an\\neloquence (whether natural or acquired at Harvard, I know not) that these\\ntwo gave up the idea of a trip they had been planning down the coast\\nand turned their thoughts inland.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0101.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "84\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nBut when they came to study the hotel circular that Alliston gave\\nthem, and noted the cost of board per week, this ardor received a dampener.\\nPhew! said Holmes, we can t stand that. I don t own our bank\\nyet.\\nNo, we can t, that s a fact, said Clayton. I d want more of a\\nraise in my pa} than I expect to get for years before I could afford that\\nsum. The dickens! I thought these countr\\\\- places were cheap always\\n\\\\S^\\nfs;\\nv ORK IN HER OWN\\nand here s a little place we ve never heard of that charges more than half\\nour big hotels here in Boston.\\nWell, we ve got to give up that idea, then, Holmes said. I suppose,\\nthough, we might find a ])lace at some farmhouse that wouldn t charge too\\nhigh.\\nThe trouble is, Clayton responded, that I don t like to go ])oking\\noff into a region where we don t know a soul, and take our chances of find-\\ning a comfortable stopping-place at the right price. Then, you see, it s\\ngoing to cost like anything getting there just the fare on the railroad. I\\ndon t know as we ought to have considered the thing at all.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0102.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0103.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0104.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY.\\n87\\nI hate to give it up, said Holmes. We ve seen a good deal of\\nthe shore, but have had hardly a sight of the country. It would be a\\ngreat thing, for a change, to take that trip to Vermont. Now, why couldn t\\nwe try camping out? That s what the youngsters do in all the small boys\\nbooks I ve ever read. We re rather older than the boys who were in the\\nhabit of doing that sort of thing in the books. But then, you know, that\\nmay be a good thing. It may have given us a chance to accumulate wis-\\ndom sufficient to avoid those hairbreadth adventures the youngsters were\\nalways having. They are good enough to read about, but deliver me from\\nthe experience.\\nHarry, said Clayton, I believe that s a good idea.\\nThe conversation and thinkings necessary to settle the details were\\nmany and lengthy, and I forbear\\nrepeating them. The long and\\nshort of it is that on Monday,\\nAugust 14, in the earliest gray of\\nthe morning, they were on the\\ntrain that was to carry them to\\nthe Vermont paradise they had in\\nmind.\\nJohn Clayton, as luck would evening\\nhave it, worked in a dry-goods\\nhouse, and therefore in planning a tent he was enabled to get the cloth for its\\nmakeup at a trifle above cost. He and Harry made numerous visits to the\\npublic library on spare evenings and consulted a variety of volumes devoted\\nmore or less directly to the science of camping out. The amount of infor-\\nmation they got on the subject was rather bewildering, but they simplified\\nit down to a few things absolutely necessary to think of beforehand, and\\nconcluded to trust to commonsense for solving further problems.\\nSufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, said Harry, who at-\\ntended Sunday school-regularly.\\nThe cloth used for the tent was cotton drilling. John s mother\\nsewed the strips together under his direction, and their landlady allowed\\nhim to set it u[) in the little paved square of yard back of the block, and\\nthere he and Harry gave it a coat of paint to make it waterproof. The\\nwhole thing did not cost three dollars, and, as the boys said, It ll last us", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0105.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nA LOAD OF WOOD\\na good many seasons.\\nAside from their tent\\nthey purchased a small\\nhatchet, a ball of stout\\ntwine, a few nails, a\\nlantern, and some tin\\npails, cups, and plates,\\nand several knives, forks,\\nand spoons.\\nIt had been a\\ntjuestion just where their\\ncampin,L(-place should be.\\nWe can t very well\\npitch our tent in the\\nhotel yard, said Harry.\\nThat hiL^ h-priced pro-\\n])rietor wouldn t allow it, I m sure; and, besides, we shouldn t want to.\\nAnother perusal of the summering-place circular disclosed the fact\\nthat it gave a list of the attractions of the region about, with certain com-\\nments thereon. Among the rest was noted a waterfall seventy feet high.\\nIt was amid surroundings, so the circular said, exceedingly beautiful and\\nromantic (whatever that may be). The boys thought that st\\\\ le of place\\nwould suit them to a T, and Harry, who carried the circular about in his\\npocket, got it out at the bank the next day after this decision was arrived\\nat and underscored this waterfall with red ink.\\nIn the late afternoon of August 14th the two were set down, bag\\nand baeeaee, at the forlorn little station which was the railroad terminus\\nof their journey. To the left was a high sand bluff, half cut away,\\ncrowned with a group of tall pines. A little up the tracks was a deep,\\nstony ravine where a little river sent up a low murmur from the depths.\\nThis was sjjanned by a high railroad trestle, and when the train rumbled\\naway across it and disappeared around the curve of a wooded slope, the\\nboys watched the curls of smoke fade into thin air and felt a bit home-\\nsick. Beyond was a small freight-house, but no other buildings were in\\nsight. It was a little clearing in the midst of the woods. The only path\\nleading away was the road, which made a turn about the near sand bluff,", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0106.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n89\\nand then was lost to sight. At the rear of the ilepot was a smart stage-\\ncoach, into which a group of people were being helped by a slick foot-\\nman. This coach was an attachment of the Groveland House. Were the\\nyoung gentlemen bound for the hotel?\\nNo, said Clayton, we re not going to the hotel. Isn t there any\\nother coach?\\nOh, yes, but that leaves here at two o clock. It has a long route\\nthrough the different villages, over the hills, delivering the mail and other\\ntruck. If they waited for the four-thirty train they d hardly get around\\nbefore midnight.\\nWe re much obliged, said Clayton, and the two went back to the\\nfront platform and sat down on their baggage.\\nWe won t go up to that hotel if we have to pitch our tent here\\non the sand back of the depot, said John.\\nThe\\\\ heard the coach rattle\\nbriskly away up the road, and the\\ndepot-master stamping around in-\\nside. He came out presently, and\\nafter locking the front door ap-\\nproached them. I ^xpectin some\\none to meet ye? he asked. He\\nwas a stout figured man, with a\\nsmooth, round, good-natured face\\nthat won the boys confidence at\\nonce.\\nNo, John said, we don t\\nknow any one about here. We\\ncame on a little camping trip.\\nYou see in Boston there are\\nhorse-cars running every which way\\nthat take you anywhere ou want\\nto go, and I s pose we ve got so\\nused to them that we never thought\\nof having any trouble in getting\\nto the place we wanted to go to,\\nthough this is out in the country.\\nA WATERFALL IN THE WOODS", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0107.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "90\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nOh, ye came from Boston, did ye? I kinder tlionght ye was city\\nfellers. Gness ye ll find horse-cars in these parts about as scarce as hen s\\nteeth just about. Whare was ye thinkin of goin anyhow?\\nWe were going to Rainbow Falls.\\nRainbow Falls? Well, now, you ve got mc. I do no as I ever beared\\nof em. Where be they?\\nHarr} whipped out his circular. Why, here they are, he said.\\nSee right here under this heading, Nature s Attractions in the Drives\\nabout Groveland, and he pointed to the line underscored with red ink.\\nA PANORAMA OF HILLS AND VALLEYS\\nThe station agent set down the two lanterns he had in his hand and\\ndrew a spectacle case from his vest pocket. Sho, said he, when he got\\nhis glasses adjusted, Rainbow Falls, so tis. Surroundings exceedingly\\nbeautiful and rheumatic er, no, it s n^mantic it says, I guess; the letters\\nis blotted a little. Seventy feet high, it says. Well, now, I don t know what\\nthat is, unless it s the falls over at Jones holler. The hotel folks have gone\\nand put a new-fangled name onto it, I guess. There never s been any\\nrainbow about it that I ve ever heared of.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0108.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n91\\nIs it a good place to camp out, should you think? asked John.\\nWell, yes pretty good, if you like it, was the reply. Now, if\\nyou fellers want to get up there to-night, there s sonic houses up the road\\nA PASTURE GROUP\\nhere a few steps, and I presume ye can hire some one to get ye up there\\nif ye want to.\\nHow far is it? Harry asked.\\nI should say it was five miles or something like that, said the man\\nand he walked off down the track.\\nNow, said John, we must wake up. I see no signs of houses,\\nbut we ll follow up the road.\\nThe result was that a short walk brought them to a little group of\\nhabitations, and they accosted a farmer boy who was weeding in a garden\\nand made known their wants. He would take them up, he said, if his folks\\nwould let him.\\nHow much w^ould you charge? asked Harry.\\nWell, I do no said the boy. It s goin to be considerable trouble,\\nand it s a good five miles the shortest way, and hard travellin too, some of\\nthe way. I should think twould be worth thirty-five cents, anyhow.\\nWe ll pay you fifty, said John, if you ll hurry up with your team.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0109.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "92 THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTKY\\nI ll have to ask ma first, the boy replied.\\nHe went to the house, and the two outside heard a low-toned con-\\nversation, and a woman looked out at them from behind some half-closed\\nblinds. Then out came Jimmy with a rush and said he could go. Ke took\\npains to get his hoe from the garden, which he cleaned by rubbing off the\\ndirt with his bare foot before hanging it up.\\nHave ye got much luggage? he asked. Cause if ye have we\\nc n take the rack wagon. The express wagon s better, though, if ye haven t\\ngot much. That old rack s pretty heavy.\\nThe lighter vehicle, which proved to be a small market wagon, was\\nplent} large enough, and into that was hitched the stout farm-horse, and\\nthe three boys clambered up to the seat.\\nGit up cried Jimmy, cracking his whip, and away they rattled\\ndown to the depot.\\nNow, said Jimmy, they s two ways of gettin where you want to\\ngo. and when you get there they s two places where you can go to. The\\nroad over Haley s Hill is the nearest, but it s so darn steep I d about as\\nsoon drive up the side of a meeting-house steeple.\\nThen you d rather go the other road, I suppose.\\nWell, I do no that s considerable more roundabout.\\nYou can do as you please, said John. We ll risk it, if you will.\\nI guess I ll go over Haley s Hill, then. But I reckon you fellers ll\\nget shook up some. Tain t much more n a wood-road, and they s washouts\\non the downhill parts and bog-holes where its level that they ve dumped\\nbrush and stuff into. You ll have to walk up the steep parts. Don t ycni\\nwant something to eat? he then asked. I brought along a pocketful of\\ngingerbread, cause I knew I shouldn t get home till after dark. Here,\\nand he pulled out a handful of broken fragments, better have some.\\nThank you, said John; but we had a rather late lunch on the\\ncars, and I don t think we ll eat again till we get the tent pitched. What\\nwas it you said about there being two places up there we could go to?\\nThe boy took a mouthful of gingerbread, and when he got the pro\\ncess of mastication well under wa} he responded, Well, there s Jules and\\nthere s Whitcomb s. Jules is on one side of the brook and Whitcomb s is\\non the other. Jules is the Frenchman, ye know.\\nWhich place is best?", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0110.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0111.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0112.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "THE NEJV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n95\\nI do no bout that. Whitcomb s is the nearest.\\nWe ll try the nearest place, I think.\\nI guess we d better tumble out now, said the boy. We re gettin\\non to Haley s Hill, and old Bill s gettin kinder tuckered. Hold on don t\\njump out now. I ll stop on the ne.xt thank-you-marm.\\nHe pulled in his steed just as the wheels went over a slight ridge\\nthat ran across the road, and the three alighted. They were in the dusk of\\na tall wood of beech and birches that was almost gloomy, so thick were\\nthe trees and so shut out the\\nlight. The road increased in\\nroughness and in steepness,\\nand finally the boy at the\\nhorse s head called out, I\\nsay, I guess you fellers better\\npush behind there. Bill can t\\nhardly move the thing, and he\\nkinder acts as if he was goin\\nto lay down.\\nThe campers made haste\\nto give their support, and the\\ncaravan went jolting and pant-\\ning up the slope till the leader let fall the bridle-rein and announced:\\nThere, we re over the worst of it. Now, if I can find a good soft stone\\nto set on we ll rest a minute, and then we ll fire ahead again, and I ll get\\nye to Whitcomb s in less n no time.\\nJimmy found a bowlder to his mind and began to draw on his stores\\nof gingerbread again. The horse nibbled the bushes at the roadside. The\\ncampers took each a wagon wheel and leaned on that and waited.\\nI guess we might get in now, said the boy, rising and brushing the\\ncrumbs off his overalls. It s pretty rough ahead, but they ain t much that s\\nsteep.\\nThere were stones and bog-holes to jolt over, but after a little they\\ncame on to a more travelled way, and presently Jimmy drew in his horse and\\nsaid, This is Whitcomb s house right here. That s his dog at the gate\\nbarkin at us.\\nJohn went to the front door and rapped. He got no response, and\\nA PASTURE GATE", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0113.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "96\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nconcluded from the grasses and weeds that grew about and before it that\\nfront-door visiting was a rare thing at that house. A narrow, flagged walk\\nran past the corner to the rear. He followed it, and in an open doorway\\nof the L found Mr. Whitcomb reading a paper.\\nA ROAD BY THE STREAM\\nA friend and myself would like to camp over in your pasture for\\na few days, if you don t object, said John.\\nAll right, go ahead, said the farmer. If ou behave yourselves, and\\nput up the bars after ye so t the cows won t git out I ain t no objections.\\nThank you, said John. We ll try to do that. Have you milk to\\nsell? We d like to buy a couple of quarts or so a day.\\nThe man turned his head toward the kitchen. Ann, he said, how\\nis that can ye spare any?\\nA tall, thin-faced woman came to the door. She carried a baby in\\nher arms. I don t think we have any milk to spare, she replied. We\\nraise calves, because I ain t well enough to tend to the milk and make\\nbutter, and they drink about all we have. And I have two children, and\\nthe oldest ain t much more n a baby, and they have to have some. We d\\nlike to accommodate vou, but I don t see how we can.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0114.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n97\\nIt s all right, John replied; we will find some other place for our\\nmilk supply.\\nHe returned to the team and they drove through a wide, rocky mous-\\ning lot till they came to a stone wall which was without a break, and en-\\ntirely blocked the way. A pasture lay beyond.\\nThe falls, said Jimmy, arc right over in them woods t other side\\nof this pasture. If twasn t for this pesky stone wall I d drive right over\\nthere with ye. We d a done better to a gone to Jules His place is only\\na little ways straight over here, but it s a mile and more by the road.\\nWell, we ve travelled far enough for one day, said Harry. Let s\\nget our tent over into the pasture and pitch it there.\\nAgreed. said John. The sky has been cloudy all the afternoon,\\nand it looks more like rain than ever now. I shan t feel easy till we get\\na roof over our heads.\\nThe)- tumbled their bundles over the fence and made their driver\\nhappy with a half-dollar, with which he drove whistling away. He, however.\\nAT THE PASTURE GATE\\ninformed them that he guessed likely he d get up to see em in a few\\ndays, if they didn t get sick of camping before that and clear out.\\nThe campers dragged their bundles over to a low beech-tree a few\\nrods distant, and beneath its spreading branches proceeded to erect their", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0115.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "98\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\ntent. Poles and pegs they cut in a thicket near by. Their chief trouble\\nwas the lack of a spade to make holes for the end poles in the hard\\nearth. But they made the hatchet do the work, though the fine edge they\\nhatl taken pains to put on it before leaving Boston disappeared in the\\nprocess.\\nAfter the tent was up they got their things into it and spread their\\nbedding. The ne.xt thing was to hunt up a sirring to serve as a water-supply.\\nYou get out a lunch, said John, and I ll (ill this tin pail with water.\\nTHE SHEEP PASTURE\\nThat was easier said than done. He stumbled about in the dusk\\nover the rough pasture-land with its tangle of ferns and hardback bushes, and\\nthe best he could do was to get a couple of pints of fairly clean water\\nfrom a rocky mud-hole. Afterward he scooped the hollow deeper with his\\nhands, hoping it would soon fill with clear water.\\nAt the tent Marr)- had the lunch spread and had lit their lantern.\\nDo you know what time it is? he asked. It s half-past eight.\\nIf we d had an)- farther to go we d have been in a fix. Is that all the\\nwater you could get? I m dry as a desert.\\nI ll get more after supper, said John. I ve tumbled half over the\\npasture and I can t find anj thing but bog-holes.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0116.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "THE NEiV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n99\\nAfter eating, both went out, Harry with the lantern, John with two\\npails. The clouds overhead had thinned and the stars twinkled through in\\nplaces. The lantern with its two attendant figures went zigzagging over the\\nlonel}- pasture waste to the water-hole. It had not yet cleared, but they\\nskimmed off enough with a pail-cover to slake their thirst. Idiey did not\\nsay much as they wended their way back to the tent, but both had the\\nfeeling that camping out was proving a rather severe experience of pioneer-\\ning.\\nI m dead tired, said Harry, as he flung himself down on the\\nbedding inside. Let s turn in for the night.\\nA few minutes later Farmer Whitcomb, glancing across the field, saw\\nthe soft glow of the lantern through the canvas walls of the tent disappear,\\nand remarked, Well, they get to bed early for city folks, but I ve always\\nthought myself nine o clock was about the right time. He cleared his\\nthroat, looked up to the sky to get a hint of to-morrow s weather prospects,\\nand went in and locked the door. Soon his light, too, was out.\\nThe last sound the campers heard was the wind fluttering through\\nthe beech leaves in the tree above. It was a great change from the city\\nnoises and surroundings with which they were familiar.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0117.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "lOO\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nOn the following morning the campers were out at sun-up. Harry\\nwent over to their particular mud-hole and succeeded in scooping up a pail-\\nful of water, but he had not gone five steps before his foot slipped on a\\ndewy hummock and the pail went flying. He returned to the original source\\nof water-supply, but there was no chance of getting more just then, and the\\nhusking-t:me\\nresult was he wended his way across the fields and filled his pail at the\\nWhitcomb well-sweep.\\nIt s no use, he said on his return, we ve got to get nearer water.\\nIf matters go on as they ve begun we ll waste half our vacation over this\\none thing.\\nWell, we ll look around after breakfast. said John. I ve been\\ntrying to make a fire, but everything s so soaked with dew you can t make\\nanything burn. I wonder if they always have such dews up here. It s just\\nas if we d had a heavy rain. We ll have to get in our firewood the night\\nbeforehand.\\nIt s a cold bite again this morning, is it? said Harry. I tell you,\\nwe ve got to study up this matter. We must reform some way. Why, we re", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0118.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nlOI\\ngetting right down to barbarism. By the way, how d you sleep last\\nnight?\\nFirst-rate, John replied don t remember a thing, only I feel a\\nlittle sore in spots this morning.\\nThat s it, said Harr\\\\ same way with me. Feel s if Fd had\\na good licking. Now, see here. He rolled down the bedclothes and\\nexposed the ground. See those humps? There s a stone sticking up. Here s\\nanother. There s a stub where some little tree has been cut off, and there\\nseveral sticks and natural hummocks of the earth thrown in besides. Why,\\nthe worst savage, unless he was drunk, would be ashamed to use such\\na bed.\\nWell, said John, let us be thankful that we ve come through the\\nthrilling experiences that we have so far met with alive to-day we ll hustle\\naround and find a new camping-ground, and in the future we ll live in\\na style properly becoming to our dignity as members of Bostonian civiliza-\\ntion, etc. But, come now, you ve been regarding that bed of torture long\\nenough. Trials past are only so many myths and shadows. At any rate,\\nthat s what Solomon or some other wise fellow has said. What you want\\nSUNLIGHT AND SHADOW", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0119.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "102 THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nto do is to fortifx ourself for trials to come. Supposing we go over and\\nsee this Jules after breakfast.\\nI found out how to get there from our landlord when I went over\\nfor water, said Harry. There s a side road that leads down to a little\\ngrist-mill just above here, and at the mill there s a foot-bridge across the\\nstream.\\nGood said jolin and after breakfast our campers went down to\\nthe mill, which, with the placid pond above, was completely closed in by\\nthe green masses of the forest. It was a gray little building, with mossy\\nshingles, and broken windows and doors. There were boards missing here\\nand there from its sides, and it was so old and rude it seemed a wonder\\nit did not slide down the precipice it half overhung. It had not been\\nused for some time that was plain. Below it was a steep, irregular fall\\nof rocks over which thin streams of water were tumbling. Across the\\nravine, at the summit of the clift^ was a low dam but it leaked badly, and\\nthe water did not reach its to[) by some inches. Midway in the stream,\\nat the dam, was a rocky island where grew a few stunted pines. A foot-\\nbridge crossed to it from a lower door of the mill. Thus it was necessary\\nto climb to the top of the island cliff, where another bridge swung high up\\nover the narrow ravine to the farther shore.\\nThe boys poked about the mill and the pond for some time and then\\ncrossed the bridges. But they were no sooner across than John exclaimed,\\nHow that thing did sway and crack I d walk ten miles before I d cross\\nthat rotten plank again.\\nSo would I, said Harry. It fairly made my hair stand on end,\\nA fellow wouldn t be good for much after he d tumbled down into a\\nravine as deep and rocky as that, I guess. The waterfall must be close by\\nhere. I can hear it. But let s hunt up Jules first. His last name is La\\nFay, so Whitcomb said.\\nA faintly marked path led away through the woods, and the two\\nfollowed it. Some distance beyond it opened into a highway. They saw\\nno signs of habitations, but they followed the road until they met an ox-\\ncart.\\nCan you tell us where Mr. La Fay lives? asked John of the\\nyoung man who was guiding the slow team.\\nYes, said he, you take a narrer little road that turns off into", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0120.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0121.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0122.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n105\\nthe woods clown here a piece. You don t live round in these parts, do\\nye?\\nNo, replied John.\\nI don t belong around here either, and I m mighty glad of it.\\nWhy, what s the matter? John asked.\\nIt s so darn lonesome. That s what s the matter. Xothin but woods,\\nwith now and tnen a farm kinder lost in it. Nothin goin on. h verything\\ndragfsin along slow as this okl ox-team. I ve hired out to Deacon Hawes\\nTHE VILLAGE ON THE HILL\\nfor the season, but I shan t stay more n my time out. You re campin up\\nround here, ain t ye? Allen s boy brought ye up last night, so I heard.\\nMebbe I ll drop in and see ye this evenin We ve got some sweet-corn\\njust ripenin down at the place that might taste good to ye.\\nThe campers told him they would be glad to see him, and said\\nthat they expected to be near La Fay s, at the falls. They took the road\\nhe had indicated. It led through a dense young forest. The trees inter-\\nwove their branches overhead so closely that the sunshine with difficulty\\npenetrated the foliage to fleck the damp depths below with its patches of\\nlieht. A short walk brouijht them out of the woods into a good-sized", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0123.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "io6\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nclcarin;^ sloping down into a wooded vaUev. Down the hill was a loni,^,\\nsquarish house, one end entirely unfinished, and brown with age and decay.\\nThe rest had at sonic remote period been painted white. In front was a\\nrow of maples, beneath which a calf was tied. Opposite the house was a\\nweatherworn barn, and behind it a small shed with a chimney at one end.\\nThe big barn-doors were open, and Mr. La Fay was just rolling out his\\nhay-wagon. He was apparently about thirty-five years of age a handsome,\\npowerfuU}- built man, square headed and strong jawed. He wore a mustache,\\nhad dark, curl\\\\- hair, and a pair of clear, gra\\\\- eyes, which looked straight\\nat one and that held sparks which could easily flash into fire. The boys\\nstated their errand, and La La) told them to choose any i)lace they pleased\\nfor their tent and go ahead. He could furnish them milk, and a horse\\noccasionally if the} wanted to drive.\\nVou arc close b\\\\ the falls if you go over there beyond that piece\\nof woods, he said and from our hill here \\\\-()u can see half the world.\\nHe took them out on the ridge beyond the barn. It was indeed a\\nA MILL IN THE VALLEY", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0124.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n107\\nbeautiful piece of country mowing-lots and orchards and i)astures close\\nabout, a broken valley far below, where a little stream here and there\\nglinted in the sunshine, and, bounding the horizon, many great, forest-clad\\nr?- rj4\u00c2\u00bb- fxif*?-:\\nCLOUD SHADOWS\\nhills. Here and there were far-awa) glimpses of hilltop villages, of which\\nLa Fay gave them the names and the number of miles they were distant.\\nThe boys were delighted.\\nNow, the way for you fellows to manage, said Mr. La Fay, is\\neither to take my horse and wagon for your traps, or, if you haven t got\\ntoo many, to lug them across the stream down here. You ll find an old\\nroad and a ford that you can wade across a little below the falls, if\\nyou re not afraid of getting your feet wet.\\nWe ll try that way, said John.\\nA little yellow dog which had been smelling around now began\\nbarking over something he had found a few steps down the hill.\\nWhat s he got now, I wonder, said La Fa\\\\ going toward him.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0125.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "io8 THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nOn the grass lay the remnants of a bii^^ turkey, about which the dog\\nwas sniffing excitedly.\\nThat s ni)- gobbler, said La Fay. A fox must hav^e got hold of\\nhim last night. Sec, back there where all those feathers are scattered about\\nis where the fox jumped onto him. That s where he d squatted for the\\nnight. Well, I ll have that fox one of these days. That little dog can t be\\nbeat for tracking. He s the best dog to start up partridges or hunt rabbits\\nor an) thing of that sort you ever sec.\\nThe boys asked if they might borrow a spade, and while at the\\nbarn getting it a little girl came running out to them from the house. She\\nwas perhaps eight or nine years old, a stout, vigorous little person, resembling\\nher father closelx in features.\\nThat s the young one, said La Fay. Have you got the dishes\\nwashed, Birdie?\\nYes, she replied, and then stood looking curiously at the\\nstrangers.\\nSlie does a good share of my housework for me, La Fa}- went\\non. I do the washing and the butter-making myself, and I get a woman\\nto help once in a while in baking and mending. I can make as nice\\nbutter as an\\\\- woman in this count} Look at my hands. They re hard,\\nbut they re smooth and clean. A farmer s hands needn t be rough and\\nrusty if he ll only use soap and v. ater enough, and be particular about it.\\nI work as hard on m} farm as an}- man about here, and Fm often up\\nhalf the night l)lacksmithing, but I don t believe there s a man in the town\\ncan show such hands as those.\\nHe looked toward the girl once more and continued, The young\\none s mother ran away from her home two months ago. I never want to\\nset eyes on her again. We didn t get along over-well together, sometimes.\\nShe had a temper, and 1 had a temper. I tell V ou, I smoke, and I drink,\\nand I swear like the Old Nick; but I don t steal, and I don t lie, and I don t\\nget drunk. Mary was like me, only there were times when she tl take too\\nmuch drink. Then she d flare up if I went to reasoning with her. The\\nweek before she left, she caught up a big meat knife she d been using\\nand flung it at me so savage that if I hadn t dodged quicker n lightning\\ntwould have clipped my head, sure. It stuck in the wall and the point\\nbroke off. Well, I must get to haying now; but come round to the house", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0126.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "THE NHIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n109\\nany time. If Birdie or myself ain t there, you ll find the key to the back\\ndoor behind the bh nd of the window that s right next to it. Cxo right in\\nwhenever you please. I know you fellows are honest. I know an honest\\nA LOG HOUSE\\nman when I see him. I d trust ou with m)- pocket-book or anything. I\\ndon t care what church you go to, or if you don t go at all. I can tell\\nwhat a man s made of by his looks. There s some folks that I wouldn t\\nwant to be on the same side of the fence with. I tell you, money and\\npolicy count for a great deal in this world. I despise em.\\nHe turned to the little girl and said, Run in and get your hat\\nBirdie, we must get in two or three loads before dinner, if we can.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0127.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "no\\nTHE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nThe campers with their spade went through the strip of woods La\\nFa\\\\ had indicated, and found a pretty l^it of pasture beyond. The falls were\\nin plain hearing in the ravine below, and they found a little level just suited\\nfor the tent, and not far fiway a fine spring of clear, cold water. Lastly,\\nthey noticed that one corner of the lot was a briery tangle of blackberry\\nvines that hung heavy with ripe berries. This they thought an undoubted\\nparadise every delight at their tent door. First they ate their fill of berries.\\nA FARM-YARD GROUP\\nand then went down into the hollow. The bed of the stream was strewn\\nwith great bowlders. Around towered the full-leaved trees. little above\\nwas the fall, making its long tumble down a narrow cleft of the rock} wall.\\nThe boys made a crossing by jumping from rock to rock in the bed\\nof the stream. Below, they found the ford and the old road, and went up\\nthe path and across the pasture to their tent. It was something of a task\\ngetting their traps over to the new camping-place, but by noon the white\\ncanvas was again in place and they had dinner. By aid of the spade they\\ngave the end poles of the tent a firm setting, and they dug a trench on\\nthe uphill side of the camp to protect them from overflow in case of rain.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0128.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nIII\\nI will not attempt to more than\\ncatalogue their doings for the next few\\ndays. That afternoon they took a long\\ntramp to the village to lay in fresh\\nfood supplies. They returned at dusk,\\nand found the young man whom they\\nhad met with the ox-team that morn-\\ning, at the tent door with a bag of\\nsweet-corn. He assisted them in mak-\\ning a fire, and they had a grand feast\\nfor supper. The next day, which was\\nWednesday, they took a long drive\\nover the hills to points of interest that\\nLa Fay told them about. Thursday\\nwas reserved for a trouting expedition.\\nFriday they drove over to the Grove-\\nland House to see their college friend, AUiston.\\nWell, fellows, he said, how do you like it?\\nSplendid! said the campers; we re having a grand, good time.\\nHow do you get along here?\\nIt s rather dull times, 1 think myself, said AUiston. We talk,\\nand talk, and play\\nON A MOUNTAIN\\ntennis, and have a\\ngrand performance ev-\\nery day or two over\\na drive or a clam-\\nbake. But half the\\ntime I think we re\\nmaking believe we re\\nhaving a good time\\nr a t h e r than really\\nh a \\\\M n g it. I have\\nan idea, some way,\\nthat you fellows are\\ngetting the best of\\nit.\\n./tf\\\\?,\\n^i:?- ^K\\nONE OF THE GREEN MOUNTAIN FEAKb", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0129.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "112\\nTHE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nNearly every evening the campers had callers, and in their tramps\\nand rides they made man)- interesting acquaintances. After lights were out\\ni-\\nAMONG THE BIG HILLS\\nthey usually heard the sound of the hammer and the wheezing of the bel-\\nlows up at La Fay s little shop be\\\\ ond the woods.\\nSaturday morning came. The campers were still in bed, but they\\nwere awake. It had been a very hot night.\\nPoke your head out, will you, Harry, and see what the weather s\\ngoing to be, said John.\\nHarry loosed a tent flap and looked out. The sun s shining, he\\nsaid, but the west is full of clouds and looks like a shower.\\nWell, let s not hurry about getting up. If we take the noon train\\nfor Boston we shan t get home much before midnight, and we may as well\\ntake it easy now.\\nThey continued napping. Half an hour later a gloom as of ap-\\nproaching night settled down over the landscape, and there was a threaten-\\ning grumble of thunder in the skies. The waterfall in the hollow took on\\na strange wailing note, rising and falling with the wind, and the rustling of\\nthe leaves of the near woods seemed full of premonitions. The air began\\nto cool and little puffs of wind began to blow, and the boys turned out", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0130.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "THE NFJV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n113\\nand poked around getting breakfast. Then came some great scattering\\ndrops of rain, followed by a mighty crash of thunder and a dazzling flash\\nof lightning that seemed to open tlie flood-gates of heaven, and the rain\\ncame down in sheets. Tiie air took on a sharp chill, and the boys got on\\ntheir overcoats. The wind increased in force and shook the tent menac-\\ningly with its mad gusts. The flashing of the lightning and the heavy roll\\nof the thunder were almost continuous, and through it all sounded the hol-\\nlow mourning of the waterfall.\\nI tell you, said Harry, as he sat Crouched on a roll of bedding,\\nI haven t much confidence in our mansion for such occasions as this.\\nHe had hardly spoken when something gave way, and down came the\\ntent, smothering him in\\nwet canvas. It was some\\nmoments before the two\\ncould disentangle them-\\nselves. They made un-\\nsuccessful attempts to re-\\njjair the wreck, but fin.dly\\nhad to be content to {)rop\\nuj) the ridge-pole so that\\nit would shed the rain\\nfrom their belongings,\\nwhile they secured an\\numbrella and scud through\\nthe storm to the house,\\nwhich they reached half\\ndrenched.\\nThe N oung one\\nwas sitting by the kitchen\\nwindow. Her eyes were\\ndilated and she looked\\nfrightened. She had her\\nhands folded idly in her\\nlap. That was unusual,\\nfor she was ordinarily\\nvery busy. deserted hut in the woods", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0131.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "114\\nTHE Nl W RNGLAND COi^NTKY\\nYou tlon t like these tlumtler-stornis, tlo \\\\-ou said Harry.\\nOh, she didn t mind tliem, she answered.\\nWhere .s your father? Harry asked.\\nHe went off down to the village before I got up. I guess he was\\ngoing to get some flour.\\nThen you ve been all alone in this storm, Harr said.\\nShe did not rejjly.\\nA fire was burning in the stove, and the campers hung their wet over-\\ncoats behind it, and themselves drew chairs to the stove and sat with their\\nCHARCOAL KILNS\\nfeet on the hearth. On the table was a [)ile of unwashed dishes. From\\nthe large room ne.\\\\t to the kitchen came the sound of dripping water.\\nThere was a great pool on the floor in one place, and two or three pans\\nwere set about to catch the streams trickling through the ceiling.\\nThis side of the roof always leaks when it rains hard, said J^irdie.\\nPapa s going to fix it when he has time. I never seen it rain like it\\ndoes to-day.\\nThe shower was very heavy, but it did not last long. The clouds\\nrolled away, and the sun shone down on the drenched earth from a perfect\\ndome of clear, blue sky. Birds sang, and insects hummed and chirruped in\\nthe grasses, and the breezes shook little showers of twinkling water-drops", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0132.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n5\\nfrom the trees. The air was full of cool freshness and sunshine. It seemed\\nto give new life and cheer to every living creature. The cann)ers were\\nquite gleefid as they ran over to their tent after the storm was well\\npast.\\nWe ll just hoist the ridge-pole into place, said John, and let things\\ndry off, and then we ll pack up.\\nThe goods inside had escaped serious wetting, but they thought best\\nto hang two of the blankets on some neighboring saplings.\\nWhat a racket the water makes down in the gorge, said Harry.\\nLet s go down and have a look at it.\\nEverything was wet and slippery, and they took off shoes and\\nstockings and left them at the tent.\\nI declare! exclaimed John, as the\\\\ approached the stream, this\\nis a big flood. There s hardly one of those big bowlders but that the\\nwater covers clear to the top. Mow mudd} it is! and see the rubbish! A\\nROUGH UPLANDS\\nman couldn t live a minute if he was to jump in there. How it does boil\\nand tear along\\nCome on, let s go up to the dam, shouted Harry, endeavoring to\\nmake himself heard above the roaring waters.\\nHe clambered along over the rocks among the trees on the steep", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0133.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "ii6 THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nbank, but he had no sooner got within seeing distance than he stopped\\nshort and called excitedly to John close behind him, It s gone! It s gone!\\nThe whole thing s washed away, dam, and bridge, and mill,- all gone to\\nsmash. .Vnd see the gorge at the fall s all choked u[) with big timbers.\\nSee the water spout and splash about em.\\nIt was a grand sight the mighty tumble of waters from the preci-\\npice above, foaming down into the gorge, then broken in the narrow, almost\\nperpendicular, chasm into a thousand flying sprays, whence the mists arose\\nas from a monster, steaming cauldron. And there the boys saw a rainbow\\nwhich they had looked for in vain before. They stayed nearly an hour,\\nfascinated by the turmoil of the Hood.\\nI suppose we ve got to think about packing up, remarked John at\\nlast, with a sigh.\\nIt s a pity we can t stay around here another week, said Harry.\\nThey climbed slowly up the wooded bank to the tent, pulled it to\\npieces, rolled all their belongings into snug bundles, put on shoes and stock-\\nings and went over to the house. As they approached they heard sounds\\nof angry dispute. They turned the corner at the barn and stopped. La\\nFay was standing in the kitchen doorway. In the path before him stood a\\nwoman. She had on a pretty bonnet trimmed with gay ribbons. Over her\\narm hung a light shawl. Her face was thin, and there were blue lines\\nbeneath her burning black eyes. She stood sharpl) erect.\\nMove on thundered La Fay, and never show yourself here\\nagain.\\nIt s Mrs. La Fay, whispered Harry. She s come back.\\nJules Jules said the woman and then her tones, either of excuse\\nor pleading, dropped so low the boys did not catch the words.\\nWe d better go back, suggested John.\\nI say I want to hear no more, Jules continued fiercely. The\\nquicker you get off the premises, the better.\\nThe woman looked at him in silence a moment, then turned short\\naround and walked with quick steps away. La Fay stood frowning, with\\nclenched fists, in the doorway. In the farther corner of the kitchen the\\nyoung one was crouched in a chair, crying. The boys had turned away,\\nbut the drama had come to a sudden termination and they approached\\naszain.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0134.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0135.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0136.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "THE NEW ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n119\\nLa Fay saw thcni. She s been back, he said but I ve sent her\\npackiiiL^ again. She came early this morning while I was away. She was\\nhere through the storm.\\nIt was a painful subject, and John hastened to say tliat they had\\npacked up read} to go to the train.\\nMy horse is out there by the barn hitched into my lumber-wagon,\\nA PATH IN THE WINTER WOODS\\nsaid La Fay, but I ll change him into the carryall. I ll be ready inside of\\nten minutes.\\nAll right, then, John responded; we ve got a little more to do to our\\nbundles, and we ll be over there with them.\\nAt the edge of the woods they looked up the road leading away\\nfrom the clearing, and just beyond sight of the house they saw the woman\\nagain. Her arms were about her head, and she was leaning face forward\\nagainst a big chestnut-tree. Once she clasped her hands and gave a sudden\\nlook upward. Then she resumed the former position.\\nThe boys went down to their camp and did their final packing.\\nThe sunshine was becoming warmer. The wind was blowing more briskly,\\nand it kept the grasses swaying and the leaves of the trees in a perpetual\\no-litter of motion. In the aisles of the wood a thrush was chanting its", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0137.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "120\\nTHR NRIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\nbeautiful song. From the hollow sounded the ncvcr-ccasing roar of the\\nfall.\\nLa Fay appeared, bundles were packed into the carriage, and they\\nwere off. They had just entered the road leading to the highway, when\\nHarry spied a shawl lying at the foot of a tall chestnut. What s that\\nhe asked.\\nLa Fay drew in his horse and Harr}- jumped out and picked it up.\\nHe handed it to La Fay.\\nWhy, said the man, that s Mary s. She must have dropped it.\\nWINDY WINTER ON THE WAY HOME FROM SCHOOL\\nHe laid it across his knee and said nothing for a long time. In-\\ndeed, the} were more than half-way to the depot before he spoke more.\\nThen he fell to stroking the shawl genth with his right hand and said,\\nMary ain t done right. I know it; I know it.* Poor girl! she s had a\\nrough time since she s been away. I don t know but I ought to have been\\neasier with her. And I like her still. I don t get over that, someway. I\\ncan t help it. If the past was blotted out, I d do an\\\\ thing for her. He\\nspoke all this slowly and meditatively.", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0138.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "THE NEIV ENGLAND COUNTRY\\n121\\nSuddenly he straii^rhtcned up. Boys, he exclaimed, I ll blot out\\nthe past so far as I can. I ll start new, if Mary will. I haven t been any\\ntoo good myself. I know where she ll go to-day. I ll hunt her up on the\\nway back.\\nWith this resolution made he became quite jovial and talked very\\ncheerfully all the distance to the depot. Boys, said he, as he .shook\\nhands at parting, I m glad you ve been up here. You re good fellows. I\\nlike to talk with you. Birdie, I know, will miss you a good deal, now\\nyou re gone. She told me only yesterday, I wish Mr. Clayton and Mr.\\nHolmes would stay up here a long time, so I could learn to talk nice, the\\nway the\\\\^ do. If you ever get around this way again be sure to come and\\nsee Jules the Frenchman.\\nThe train rumbled into the station at that moment, and the campers\\nhastily bade a last adieu and were off.", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0139.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0140.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0141.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0142.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0143.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0144.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3739", "width": "2366", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0145.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\nII II II\\n009 746 849 7", "height": "3775", "width": "2382", "jp2-path": "newenglandcountr00john_0146.jp2"}}