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WOODLAND AND MFADOW 
 
By 
 W I [ IXCOr.N ADAMS. 
 
 WOODLAND AM) MKAlJOW. 
 
 <^ut-oM)(ior Papers written i»ii a New Hainpsliirc I"arin. Richly 
 illustrati-,1 witli pli(ili>i;raphs Ircini nature by the autlmr and 
 "tlliTs -ltd. tloih cU-oiratril. lull t;ill. in a h.)x, %'.M 
 
 SlXl.lCIl T AM) SHADOW. 
 
 .\ Hixik f..r l'li(itoi,'rapliers, .Ainjleur anil Professiimal. Illus- 
 trated by more than tme hundred e.xcjuisite half-tone pimto- 
 ennravinys in.ni orii;inal phot"(;raphs from nature. Third 
 lh..usan,l. ■do. elolli deeorated, full gilt, in a bo.\, $8.50 
 
 l.X .\.\TLRKS IMACl-:. 
 
 I hapters on Pictorial l'lioli>);ra|»hy. Illus'.raleil by liall-tone 
 photo enj^'raviiijis from original phtiioL'raphs. 
 
 Uo, cloth decoratctl, full {^ilt, in a l>o\, $-J.r>0 
 
 .\M.\Tl-:rR PHOTOGRAPH V. 
 
 A Practical (Juide for the Heyinner Illustrated. Tilth 
 lll""--i"d. Paper, "lOc. ; cloth, $1.00 
 
 'I'lIK FOUR SKASO.NS. 
 
 -\ Scries of Artistic Landscapes from N.uure. the nejialives by 
 W. I. I,iN((»i.N Ad.^ms, reproduced in photogravure. Printed 
 on e.Mra heavy plate paper, isi/c. II .x 14 inches, suitable for 
 'raniini;. Sold singly or in sets, ."illc. |>er copy laiiv |ilatei. 
 
 The set of lour, .■?!.. "id 
 
 .MOXTCLAHi. 
 
 A ("ollectitin of Photogravures front Xalurc. the ne;iati\es by 
 \y. I. l.iscoi.N .Ai.AMs. These plates adei|uately illustrate the 
 pictorial jihases <if this (licturesijue town. The collection includes 
 about thirty ijiclurcs, printed on heavy plate paper, hound in a 
 specially (Usii.'neH cover. $4. On 
 
 Sc-in ])iist|)iii(l (in fc'tc-ipt nl' jiriLX' by 
 
 THIC BAKER iV T.WLoR I'oMI'A.W. 
 
 IT !-:ast iTth Street. Nkw York. 
 
Jtk, 
 
 
 WOODLAND 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 AND 
 
 MEADOW 
 
 our OF DOOK PAPKHS 
 
 W KllTKN ON A 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM 
 
 jtv 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 1 
 
 W " 
 
 
 W. 1. LINCOLN ADAMS 
 
 AITMOU .■!■ 
 
 •• SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW." 
 •IN NATrRR'S IMAC.K. ■ KTC. 
 
 Il.l.LlSTKATKl) UlTII I'l lO riH.KAl'HS H<OM V> 
 15V IHK ALiTHOR ANO OT.W'KRS 
 
 N !•: W \' ( > K 1< 
 Till- HAKKK AXD T.Wl-OR CoMl'ANV 
 
 IQOI 
 
 
 *ii^ f/^J* 
 

 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS. 
 Twu Cof-.tA HtceivED 
 
 OCT. 9 1901 
 
 COPVRIOHT eNTHV 
 
 CLftSSCL.-XXc f*^. 
 COPY B. 
 
 CliI'VUliMII 111. I()()I 
 
 i;v 
 
 I'm H\K1.K iV T.\Vl.r>U CoMI'A.NV 
 
 AI.I. KUilriS KhiKK\i;iJ 
 
 IHKW UK NTVI.KS a (.ASM, NKH \,.| 
 
TO 
 MY WIFE 
 
PREFACE 
 
 HE foUowinj^ papers, and 
 the photographs which 
 illustrate them, are of- 
 fered in book form, not 
 as an attempt to ade- 
 quately describe the 
 vnrious phases of Nature 
 and life on a New 
 England farm. The 
 volume is put forth 
 rather as merely sug- 
 gestive of some of the 
 interests which attach 
 to life on a New Hamp- 
 shire hill farm as we have happily found it. It is a 
 life which possesses a perennial charm tor those who 
 have experienced it ; and apparently at present is ex- 
 erting its beneficent inliuences over a constantly in- 
 creasing number of dwellers in the city. 
 
 The author wishes gratefully to acknowledge the 
 svmpathetic co-operation, in the i)reparati()n ot this book, 
 especially of the illustrative features, of liis wife, Daisy 
 Wilson Adams, and of his life-long friend, Benjamin 
 West Kilbnrn. Others have also most generously 
 granted the use of ])hotographs which appropriately 
 illustrate the pages they were selected to embellish. 
 
 W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS. 
 
 Iln.i TOP Farm, 
 
 Li ill ETON, N. H. 
 July, 1901 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 1. riiK Ni:\v E.\(.i.AM) Farm 
 
 II. Ix THK SUCAK Cam I' 
 
 III. Ax Eakiv Morxim; Rihe 
 
 1\\ In THK Han-Fiiild 
 
 Y. Harvkst[M(; iiii; CoKX 
 
 \'I. Ax Autumn Walk 
 
 VII. The Gui.dex Hour 
 
 VIH. At Dusk 
 
 rAi:K 
 
 •5 
 
 IX. Whex rr Rains 
 
 X. Phoiograi'hixc ox the F.\r.m 
 
 XI. Winter Days 
 
 0/ 
 
 49 
 57 
 65 
 75 
 
 91 
 
 101 
 
 1 1 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 A Nkw HAMrsiiiHE Faum, - - - - - Jl. //'. Ki/hitrii, . . . ^ 
 
 HiLLToi' Fakm, ------ //•. /. IJiuoln Adaiiis. - - i(, 
 
 "A Pkktty Litti.e Lakk Which Nr.sriKs Amon : tiif, Foothu.i.s," 
 
 /j. W. Kilbiirii, - - - I'j 
 
 The Little Red ■' Dekstiuck " SriiiiDi., - - ;/'. [. Lnno!)! Adams, - - 20 
 
 An American Elm, ------ •• ■■ . - 21 
 
 The Farmstead, ------- Daisy Wilson Adams, - - 23 
 
 The Sucar Camp, - ----- L. F. Brt'lniicr, - - - 26 
 
 An Olii-eashkined Sucar Camp, - - - />'. //'. Ki/hiini. - - - 28 
 
 A '■ Gathering" Scene, . - - . ■■ •■ . - - 29 
 
 An Improvised Camp, ------ ■• " . - . -;o 
 
 A " Sugakino-oee " Party, - - - . ■• •■ - . . ^^ 
 
 The Country IIii;h\vav. ----- /(■. /. Limoln .\dams - - 32 
 
 "The Appearance oe Winter Spill Lingers on phe Hill Farms," 
 
 \V. I. Lincoln .Idai/is. - - 3; 
 
 Coming Home, -------//. 6'. Dicfciidin-f, - - 35 
 
 " Our Mountain Metropolis, " - - - W. I. Lincoln Adams. - - 3S 
 
 Mother and Bap.y, - - ----- - ----- ji 
 
 A Good Shepherd, - - - - - I'. II'. Kilbiirn, - - . ^3 
 
 In THE Wiiims, ------- ;;'. /. Lincoln .\danis. - - 44 
 
 Going to Pasture, W. Liraybi'ookc liailcy. - 46 
 
 Harvesting, ------- L. Christ Dchnonico, - - 50 
 
 In PHE Hay-eield, ------/)'. W. Kilhurn. - - - 52 
 
 " Little Farmers," ------ Daisy Wilson .Idanis, - - 52 
 
 A Hillside Farm, - - - - - - B. W. Kilhurn. - - - 53 
 
 An Ox-team Load, --.--- ■■ " . - . 53 
 
 Cutting THE Hay, ------ Llewellyn Morga)i. - - 54 
 
 The Haymakers, ------ T. J. Preston, Jr.. - - - 55 
 
 The Corn-field, H. F. Porter, - - - 5S 
 
 "Stuc-KED," ------- Alfred Clements, - - - Oi 
 
 The End "]■ Day, - . - - Georx'e IV. A'orris, .11. D., - 63 
 
I.lSr OK II.I.l S'IKA'IIONS 
 
 fA<iK 
 
 El iu> Laki., Fkam iiMA Miii.M.M.Ns, - - l.rslic I lalt li. - - - • f)4 
 
 Pi.iir(;iiiM:, - - ■ - - - - //'./. Lineal ii Ailiims. - 66 
 
 A 'I'll' i|;mI i.llKklli, " " . . 68 
 
 (inA/.INC, " " - 6q 
 
 A Hi>u i.riKU, - Ihiisv W'ilsnii Aitaiin. - 70 
 
 Kkkns, ■• •• " - 71 
 
 Di;i\iNc; IIiiMi: 1 mi; Cows. . . - . ;/'. /. /./iui>/ii .liiniiii. - - 72 
 
 'I'm I 111 I I'AsiiKr., ■■ •■ - 73 
 
 TuiiiLiii. Arllnii Wiiil'^nrt/i Sii>tl, - 7(1 
 
 A Ni w I'"m;i.ami Lamiscai'I:. ----/.. !■'. Ihiliiiur, - . . -% 
 
 'I'm RiiMi III I III' Ri\ i.R, (.'iiiy I!. Sliariis. - - - 80 
 
 Sui.KI' IS li;VKMM;'s TkAM.iIII. llill K. - - /(i/lll II. iiii!l\ ... gi 
 
 Ar 1)1 SK, /.;/'. .\'/</.-i'lsii/i. - - - S4 
 
 Twu.iimr, /. .1/. C lira'Ci-. ... gf, 
 
 AMniNiAiN Laki:, /.'. //'. Kilhiirn. - - - S7 
 
 Laii. IIak\ T.si T.Rs, (/(■('. //'. Xorris. M.IK. SS 
 
 " NllW WAS 1 III \) W I )l r \K I IM. AMI I 111'. AlK 10 \l l;l;i IWM 11 Willi SlIAIIIlUS," 
 
 (/'('('. //'. .W'lris. .\l.l)., - - S9 
 
 Wiii-.N IT Rains, Xill/'i- .1/. C. Kiiafipiii, - ij2 
 
 I,(lUlu^ \Vi Ai IIKK. ./. Ilorslrv llintoii. ■ - 95 
 
 Ai ir.K Till'. SiiiiwKK, /.. ]'. k'iip/>ii-. - - - - 07 
 
 LoDKs LiKi Rai\, - h'.slil/i- (/'. .Miiznrl. 
 
 Oniiii Siiii mi Mil. IIiii., .... ;;•. /. I.iiuolii Adiiiiis. 
 
 ■'TiiK I'AiiiNi DiiNKKV," /.'. //'. Kilhiirii. - - - 104 
 
 Friinhs, " "... - 105 
 
 Tim TiKN i\ rill Rci \ii, //'. /. I.iiiiolii Adams, - - 106 
 
 •■ WiiKUK 1 iiK Oi.ii ( )i;ciiAuii Skiu IS I in: IIii;iiu A\ ," '■ " - - loS 
 
 Till: rARM-iiiii si:, - ' " - no 
 
 'I'm: Smi\\-i I AI) IIii.i.s, I!. II'. I\'ill>iirii. - - - 114 
 
 'I'm HkcioK IN \ViMi:i;. A'. Ei, Luiiuycr. fi\. - ■ 11(1 
 
 'I'm \VA^ (II Rii-Ai IV, />'. W. Kilhiirii. - - - iiS 
 
 1"AIK^ Fkosi wiiRK, Cluirlr.'y II. Ma.xicill, - ■ 120 
 
 PoKiii WiNiT'K. />. //'. Killnirn, - - - 122 
 
 \VlNll:l! TulLlLII 1 , ...... •' •• .. J22 
 
 lr)2 
 
THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 
 
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Chapter I 
 
 THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 
 
 EZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH 
 has said that "The best and 
 most substantial property in 
 the world is the New England 
 tarm ; if you have one, keep 
 
 it; if you have not, secure one; 
 
 li\e simply and honestly, and you will li\'e long and 
 prosper and enrich your soul and leave an honest name." 
 And later in the same article" he gives some reasons 
 for the assertion, which are, that "the time may come 
 when the country will be largely divided into monopo- 
 lists, dependents, and farmers, and the farmer will be 
 the most independent of all men and the saving power 
 of our institutions. The relief from the ])erplexing 
 problems of the time is a sim])lc, honest, character- 
 building, faith-sustaining life on the soil." 
 
 And he concludes his very thoughtful i)aper. to 
 which 1 refer the interested reader, as follows: "The 
 permanency of the New England schools and historical 
 scenerv, the assured stabilitv of her manufactories, with 
 
 "^^ '" The Future Value of the New Enjjland F;irm " in the A ///t/uu/i Monthly Ke-itio of Ki-T/i-un for 
 September, iSgg. 
 
 17 
 
WOODLAND AND MEADOW 
 
 a tendency to create tlie finest fabrics, the ])r()spective 
 revival of commerce, the j^ran^e, and the enterprises in- 
 cidental to these conditions ni.ake the New Enj^kind farm 
 an ideal possession, 'riie New ICn.^land fanner who says 
 that the farm is a thin.L,^ of the past is himself hut a 
 liroduct of the past. TIk' man who has a li\e-thoiisand- 
 doUar farm in New k^n^land, willi lix'e thousand dollars 
 in the hank, and who will li\e within his means, is a 
 millionaire, and his i)ossession and contentment are not 
 unlikely to outlast that of the millionaire." 
 
 In another article" in the same excellent ma«iazine 
 from which 1 haw quoted the r.hove, Professor L. H. 
 Bailey, of Cornell Uni\ersity, ])oints out that "the $200- 
 a-year-income farm is a more important factor in the 
 national welfare than the $5o,ooo-income farm is. 'fhe 
 one is in the reach (d any industrious and intelH.Lfent man. 
 The other is in the reach ot the lew. The one is sate and 
 steady, ddu' other is speculative and uncertain. We need 
 the moderate and modest farm to make citizens. We 
 use the other to make mone\ . The lar!j;e money-making 
 farm is a useful object lesson. It shows that business 
 and executive ability can make money from the land 
 as well as from a salt mine or a bicycle tactory. Hut it is 
 a fallacv to hold it up as the ideal in .\merican farmin.u;." 
 
 Both writers su<^;..;;est tliat the principal bcnelit to he 
 derived from the New iMV^'land farm cannot be comi)uted 
 
 ♦ " Does Farming Pay ? '* 
 
 18 
 
WOODI.AM) AM) MEADOW 
 
 ill iloll;n"s and cents. iIiou.l:;!! an indrpi, ndcnt and comtorl- 
 al>U' living' can l)c had on il. Il is "In make citi/A'ns," 
 "to li\c ion,i;'," "to enrich vonr soul and Icaw an honest 
 name," that this "simjile. honest, eharactei -huil(lin<^, 
 laith-sustaininj^ lite on the soil" is recommended, 
 it was tor this tliat we came to llilltoi). 
 "The ,i;;lory ot tlie tarmer," according to ICmerson, 
 
 " is that, in the 
 dixision ot labors, 
 it is his ])art to 
 create. All trade 
 rests at last on his 
 ])riniili\e actixity. 
 lie stands close to 
 nature ; he ohtains 
 trom I he earth the 
 l)read and the 
 meat. The iood 
 
 TlIK I.HTI.K KKU •DEESTRItK" .SfHDOI. 
 
 By \v. I t.i«<M..N .A.>.iM* which was not. he 
 causes to be. ddie tirst farmer was the first man. and all 
 historic nol)ility rests on jiossession and use of land. 
 Men do not like hard work, hut e\ erx* man has an excep- 
 tional res])eet tor lilla<^-e. and a feeling' that this is the 
 orii^inal callin,iL;' of the race, that he himself is onlv ex- 
 cused trom it by some circumstance which made him 
 delegate it for the time to other hands. If he have not 
 some skill which recommends him to the farmer, some 
 
 20 
 
THE NEW ENGLAND FARM 
 
 product for which the farmer will give him corn, he must 
 himself return into liis due place among the planters. 
 And the profession has in all eyes its ancient charm, as 
 standing nearest to God, the first cause." 
 
 For preparing the youth for life the farm is hetter 
 than the university. Here, as nowhere else, can the 
 
 AN AMERICAN EI.M 
 
 By \V. I. Lincoln Adams 
 
 natural sciences be studied and mastered. The earth, in 
 its changing seasons, lies revealed as an open book, 
 which all may read. The habits and care of li^•ing 
 creature and growing plant is, as it were, unconsciously 
 learned. The beauty of nature, and the strength and re- 
 pose of tliose who dwell close to it, is indelibly impressed 
 
 21 
 
WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 
 
 ii]n)n the ,u,!"(>\vinj^' nouIIi. TIk' iisctul arts ot liiisl)an(li"\' : 
 the c\LM"-])rL'Scnt economy of naluvL- ; and, perhaps, 
 greater than all else, the endnrinj.^ health which i^ here 
 stored u]) in brain and hrawn, suggest the reason lor that 
 widely observed fact — the humble country origin ol most 
 of the world's really great men. 
 
 The road to llillto]) J'"arni trom the thritty little 
 village which serves as the metropolis for Northern New 
 llampshire. gently ascends, for three miles or more, the 
 gradual slope of the Western Hills. On the outskirts of 
 the \illage we pass a typical New Hampshire farm. Our 
 road then winds through a silent grove of ancient |)ines, 
 and past a pretty little lake which nestles among the 
 foothills, a little further on. 
 
 W'c are now out on the open countryside, and see in 
 the distance the usual little red "deestrick" schoolhouse, 
 with its woodhouse attached, and nearby the comtort- 
 rd)le pile of winter wood. Past another wood, this lime 
 of mai)le, beach and birch, and we approach the contines 
 of the farm, and begin the ascent of our last hill, between 
 the neat white fences which here line the highway. 
 The cattle are comfortably browsing on the hillside 
 beneath the spreading branches of a niagniticent .\meri- 
 can elm, and the distant hills on the uppei" waters of the 
 Connecticut can be dimly seen in the opening vista of 
 the trees at this point. 
 
THE NEW ENGLAND FAHM 
 
 We now approach the turn in the road, and the 
 loveh' green foothills of Vermont, just over the river, 
 lie peacefully and restfuUy before us— a view of which 
 we never tire. And so on to the cozy little farmhouse 
 itself, which nestles close, for shelter, just over the 
 ridge, on the southern slope of the protecting hill. 
 
 By Daisy Wilson Adams 
 
IN THE SUGAR CAMP 
 
< 
 
 ti3 
 I 
 
Chapter II 
 
 IN THE SUGAR CAMP 
 
 S the end of March approaches 
 in Northern New England, and 
 the snow begins to disappear 
 from the exposed hills, the open 
 fields and along the winding 
 country highways, the farmer's 
 thoughts are turned, not lightly, 
 like " the young man's fancy," 
 toward love ; but, nevertheless, 
 toward something ecjualh' as 
 sweet —toward ' ' sugaring." 
 
 The sun now shines with a 
 genial warmth during pleasant 
 days, drawing the wintry frosts from the yielding earth, 
 and giving to the air the mellow promise of spring. The 
 nights are still cold and frosty, however, and this is an 
 essential of good " sugar weather," as the sap must freeze 
 at night and thaw during the day in order to "run" 
 properly for making sugar. The "lingering snow" still 
 remains in sun-sheltered places and is deep in the woods 
 
 27 
 
WOODLAND AND M1;AD()\\ 
 
 .iiiil i-,-i\inos. 'Tlu' .'ipiirar.-incL' ol wiiilui- is slill ]»i\'sent 
 
 on llir hill t.'inns. 
 
 As the season advances, the delicious sap of tlu- sujijar 
 
 ni.iliK' l)c;^'ins to 
 rise, and will soon 
 dri]) freely Ironi 
 the ta])s when 
 lliev are a])i)lied to 
 
 ihe trees. Suji;ar 
 we.-ilher, as nsiial , 
 has eonie with a 
 rush, and su,y;ar- 
 inakintf occupies 
 
 AN ilI.D r.\SHI<)NKI> St(;\R ( AMI> Hy I! \V Km in kv tllC d a V S, aUd 
 
 sometimes rdso lills the ni.i^iits of the l)us\- tarmei". The 
 extra "hel])" pre\iousl\- en,Lia;.i;ed for the s])rin,ij; and sum- 
 mer work is immediately summoned, the jrlistenin^j; tin 
 l)uckets are (|uickly suspended from the new taps on the 
 su.i^ar maples, and receive the dripping sweetness as it 
 exudes from the ,!j;enerous trees. 
 
 What sound ot Nature is more musical than the drip, 
 dri]) of the sap as it tinkles on the bottoms of the new tin 
 buckets at the taps. As few other sounds of the country, 
 it takes the ,u;raydiaired larmer 1)ack to the wonderful 
 days (d his boyhood, when he pla\ed at su,ij;ar-makin,i;- on 
 his father's tarm. It reminds him ol the ever-ret urnim^' 
 youth ol Nature and makes him teel young au[ain. 
 
 28 
 
IN THE SrCiAH CAMP 
 
 Soon it l)ecomes necessary to <ro around throuy;h tlie 
 " sugar orchard " with the sled liearing the huge gather- 
 ing tank and collect the sap from the full l^uckets at the 
 trees. This is merry work, and has to be done ([uickly 
 in order to save the sap from running over and wasting. 
 Sometimes the snow is too deej) tor the horses to make 
 
 A "GATHKRING" SCENE By B. W. Kiliwkn 
 
 headway in the woods, and the sap has to be carried by 
 hand to the sugar-house, the men and boys, on snow- 
 shoes, carrying with ease huge filled buckets by means 
 of the sap yoke, which is made to fit the shoulders com- 
 fortably, and so readily sustains the weight. Sometimes 
 
 29 
 
WOODIAM) AND MKADOW 
 
 oxen arc used with tin.' ,ij;at hcrin.ii sled, as llicy can make 
 their steadv way more casil\- tliroui^h the ilce]) snow in 
 the woods than the more nerxous and active farm horses. 
 The srip is poured into tlie stora<^e tank, which is set 
 outside of the sugar house ; and if. as is usually the case, 
 
 AN I.MI'KIIVISED CAMP 
 
 Hy U W. Kii I 
 
 the suj^jar camp is located on tlie side of a hill, the stor- 
 a<j;e tank is placed on the upi)er side, outside, and supidies 
 the "evaporator" within automatically through a ruh- 
 ber tube, which is connected with a }j;o\ernor or rcj,;ula- 
 tor attached to the evaporator itself. By this means, 
 when the lire is started in the furnace under the cvapora- 
 
IN THE SUGAR CAMP 
 
 tor, the sap begins to flow, by gravit^^ from the storage 
 tank, through the rubber tube into the governor, and is 
 admitted into the evaporator itself only as fast as the 
 heat indicates it is being transformed into syrup. 
 
 The evaporator consists of a number of shallow 
 chambers, or pans, connected with each other, and cover- 
 ing the entire length of the furnace, which may be 
 twenty feet long. As the sap passes from one compart- 
 ment to another, it becomes even hotter and thicker, the 
 water in it passing off in clouds of fragrant steam, which 
 escapes through the ventilators in the top of the sugar- 
 house. At the end 
 of the evaporator, 
 when at the projjcr 
 temperature and 
 consistency, the 
 beautiful amber- 
 colored, translu- 
 cent " honc}^ " is 
 drawn off and 
 strained through 
 white flannel into 
 a huge receiving 
 vessel. After being 
 
 cooled it becomes a ■■SUGARIN(,-0FF" PAKTV By li. W. Kilbirn 
 
 still thicker and more sweet, and it is then poured into 
 cans ot various dimensions and is made readv for market. 
 
 31 
 
WODDI.Wn WD MKADOW 
 
 I'd make sugar, the ])n)ccss is stii]i]ii.(l in \hv v\:\\h)- 
 ralor a litllc hrlorr \\\c sap has hc-coiiic lliick ^.-nougli lor 
 s\rii|i, ami is lluai drawn oil inlo tlir "su<j;arin<i;-c)M " p.an. 
 This is an indfin-auk-nl appai'at us ()\ rr its own lilllc tur- 
 nacc, and is so arranged llial tlic sap in il ina\' lie heated 
 
 THK Cni'NTRY HIGHWAY 
 
 liv W. 1. I.IN.MI s Al.\Ms 
 
 U) a nincli lii,v;ht'r lcin])fralnrL' llian was ])ossil)k' in ihc 
 evaporator. \\ hun it has l)cen heated to the pi'ojjer point, 
 it is drawn oil into mouhls, and spontaneously ".grains" 
 into \arious shaped maple sxruji eakes. This is in the 
 improved mudeni method ot making the sugai^ and syrup. 
 
!0 
 > 
 Z 
 O 
 W 
 
 o 
 
 71 
 
 > 
 
WOODLAND AND MKADOW 
 
 Tlic old method of hoilin.u; llic saj) in hiij^e kettles 
 out-of-doors, or in pans over an improvised "arcli," 
 accomplished the same jj;eneral results, thou<rh very im- 
 perfectly and with mucli j^reater etTort on the part ot the 
 snjj;ar makers and with considerable loss of sap. Vuv 
 when the sap is " runnin.ij; " in ,Liood suj^ar weather, it 
 aceuniulates in the huekets and tank faster than it can be 
 boiled into svrup unless the improxed apparatus of the 
 modern methods is employed. The (juality of the syrup, 
 moreo\er, depends to a great extent upon the time which 
 elapses between drawing the sap from the trees and eon- 
 verting it into syrup. 
 
 If the process can be accoin|)lished in the same day, 
 under the best circumstances, the syrup is an exipiisite 
 pale ,-imbcr-colored liiiuid. as clear as mc^lten gold, and 
 as beautiful and rich. It is redolent with earliest s])ring 
 odors of the fragrant maple trees. It is the delicious 
 essence of tlie tlear young earth itselt, li])erally yielded 
 in response to the ardent smiles of the glowing Spring sun. 
 
 " Wliat moistens tlie lij), 
 What V)rijjlitens ttic eye. 
 What brings back the past * * * *?" 
 
 asks our dearest New K)ngland |)oet, and for the man or 
 woman whose youth has been lived in N(U-thern New 
 Hampshire or N'ermont, the answer, I am sure, will not 
 be the one of the poem ("The Rich i'umpkin I'ie"). but. 
 rather, warm nvaple honey, fresh from the boiling pan ! 
 
 34 
 
IN THE SUGAR CAMP 
 
 "The gray-haired New Englander" never tires of it, 
 but, as he watches the sparkling wood tire with glowing 
 countenance, seeing perhaps in the flames many another 
 radiant face smiling to him from the dear past, he recalls 
 those happy earlier days more vividly by tasting again 
 the " pac wax" of his youth — the delicious hot syrup, 
 cooled and hardened by being poured on driven snow. 
 
 COMING HOME . By H. G. Diefendorf 
 
 03 
 
AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 
 
O 
 
Chapter III 
 
 AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 
 
 T was Lord Herbert of 
 Cherburg who declared 
 that "a good rider on a 
 good horse is as much 
 above himself and 
 others as the world can 
 make him," and one 
 who has experienced 
 the Iceen delight and 
 healthful exhilaration 
 of an early morning 
 gallop over the dew-jeweled fields of Northern New 
 Hampshire in the youth of the year can give hearty 
 assent to the declaration. 
 
 Spring is the season for an early morning ride in the 
 mountains, as October and Indian summer is the time of 
 all the year for the more contemplative outing ol the 
 afternoon. In May, in the country, it is easy to rise wath 
 the birds. One is awakened by their garrulous twitter- 
 ing at the very first approach of dawn, and, after a slight 
 
 39 
 
WOODKAXD AND MEADOW 
 
 repast, feeds, j^rooms and saddles one's own horse, in tin.' 
 cool freshness of the early niorninjj;. Then follows the 
 (|uick mount on an eager steed and the inspiritinj^ ckish 
 11]) the hill. 
 
 .\h. the exhilaration of those tirst lew ecstatic 
 hounds! Ht)rse and rider seeni actually to be one 
 creature ; a centaur is afield, and the wood nymphs are 
 not far remote ! Now the su])erl) animal swin,t.:;s into a 
 graceful, rhythmic trotting, as if to imaginary music, 
 keeping iit^'rfect stc]), with arched neck and cur\ing tail, 
 nostrils dilate, and the springing hoots seeming scarcely 
 to touch the elastic turt. The rider is conscious of an 
 ideal heautx' Oi action and a boundless su])])ressed 
 strength and speed. A turn is made into the long tkdd 
 by a slight i)ressure of rein against neck, and the resti\'e 
 animal is given full tlight o\er the in\iting stretch of 
 velvety green. 
 
 •■ \i)\v wc re otV, like thi.- winds U> the plain whence Ihcy came ; 
 
 .\iul the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame I 
 
 ()n, cjn s])ee(ls my courser, scarce printing; the sod. 
 
 Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod 1 
 
 On, on like a deer, when the hound's early bay 
 
 Awakes the wdd echoes, awav. and away ! 
 
 Still faster, still farther, he leaps at my cliecr, 
 
 'I'ill the rush of the startled air whiiTs on my ear I" 
 
 At the lai tiler end of this tield is a vine-co\ered, 
 straggling rail fence, which is so bowed with age as 
 scarcely to l)e an obstacle in the course of an accustomed 
 lea])er. Hut we must draw rein to allow the gallant 
 
 40 
 
g 
 o 
 
 H 
 
 > 
 z 
 
 a 
 
 m 
 > 
 
 >< 
 
WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 
 
 courser an oiiportunil y lo collfcl hiniscll in his caj^er 
 niLi;lil l)ctoi\' •■ lalcin,tj; off " at the fence. Then '^'wc him 
 his head and an enconra^in;^; word as well. See him 
 bound up to the place with those short, strong gallops. 
 What a noble sight ! \\ hat confidence and conscious 
 pride ! Then the spring. Now is the time to sit close to 
 the seat. From the knei-s down the legs may hang 
 loosely enough, but a tirm grip ot the saddle must lie had 
 with the knees and the thighs. Bend slightlx' forward as 
 your horse rises to his leap ; then straighten up as he 
 tlies through the air, and, descending, thrust forward the 
 stirru])s, leaning rigidly back to withstand the shock of 
 landing on the other side. The rein is drawn as the 
 leai)er touches the ground lo assist his recovery and pre- 
 vent him ti'om tailing. 
 
 The abandoned dash over the smooth turt is e.xhila- 
 raling enough, to be sure, but what can compare with 
 the " fearless leap of a fiery steed ! " 
 
 '• I tell thee, O stranjjer, that unto me 
 
 The jjUmge i>f a liery steed 
 Is a noble thiiuj;ht ; to the brave and five 
 It is niusie and breath, and majesty. — 
 
 'Tis the life of a noble deed ; 
 And the heart and mind are in spirit allied 
 In the eharm of a niorninj^'s )j;lori()us ride." 
 
 Now we are approaching the cool margins of the 
 fresh spring woods. Let us slowly amble along in their 
 grateful shade, as both rider and lioise are warm with the 
 
 42 
 
AN p:arly morning ride 
 
 glow of the same healthful exercise, and somewhat 
 
 fatigued, moreover, from the fervor of the recent effort 
 
 and excitement. How delightfnlly refreshing, this leaf}' 
 
 solitude. We saunter along in its moist shade, the reins 
 
 hanging idly on a muscular neck, the aiTectionate horse 
 
 confining his pace to the steps of his master afoot. Here 
 
 we are at the spring where the cattle come to drink, 
 
 and where grows 
 
 the juiciest grass. 
 
 " You shall have 
 
 a sweet bite, my 
 
 brave fellow, for 
 
 your run." and 
 
 both horse and 
 
 man shall have a 
 
 cool drink. Then 
 
 a remount and 
 
 we're otif for the 
 
 Hill. 
 
 Bounding along 
 at an easy hand 
 
 A GOOD SHEPHERD 
 
 By B. W. KiLitUKN 
 
 gallop we gradually ascend b}' a well-trodden path. Our 
 "little brothers of the air" are in full song on all the 
 trees about us. The most delicious Spring odors hang in 
 the cool morning air, and rest, as a blessed benediction, 
 on an eager, uncovered head. We reach the dome of the 
 hill and wander out to its rocky edge. What a spectacle 
 
 43 
 
WOODLAND AND MKADOW 
 
 IN 1 III. W 1 M .lis 
 
 lU \V I. Lincoln Aija.ms 
 
 meets our <^:\/.c ! Surely Iutc, nn a morniiiL:; like this, is 
 Lord I [crl)cTl's feelin.t;' of clev.ition liiih juslilicd and 
 enhanced. 
 
 The snow-crowiit'd donicot majestic old \\'asliin,Lj;t()n, 
 twenty miles awav as the ca;^le Hies, and tlu' other ])caks 
 of the Presidential ran,u;e. \isil)le Irom tnw llill. are rosy 
 in the mellow li.^lit ol the earh' morning:;: while the 
 nearer hills of W'rnioni. on the other side ot tlie river, 
 are fresh and dewv and green. The mornin;^' mists, in 
 the valleys helow, are slowly lifting and melting away 
 
 44 
 
AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 
 
 before the glowin(>; rays ot the risinj^ sun. The cows are 
 leisurely issuiuj^ from the yard and makinjj; their orderly 
 way toward the £iccustomed tields. There is stirring 
 about the barns ; doors are being opened, and shutters 
 flung back at the house ; and children's voices are heard 
 singing and calling. It is time to return, so we slowly 
 arable down the hill and along the country road to the 
 house. The sun is now well up, and the day on the 
 farm has begun. 
 
 Bright smiles and dancing eyes welcome the return- 
 ing rider and horse. There are pleas lor a ride, "just to 
 the barn," which are not to be denied. But there is one 
 tender smile, softer and more gentle than all the rest, 
 which is full of lo\ing solicitude, as the merrilv laden 
 beast is carefully guided to the stable door. 
 
 That smile always illumines our way. It is ever the 
 same, knowing, helpful and tender, whether the tace of 
 the sun be obscured by passing clouds, or is shining, as 
 now, in a cloudless blue. 
 
 Later in the day, during a leisure hour, I happened 
 
 45 
 
GOING T(J I*ASTLRt 
 
 By W. BRASBKUiiKt Bailev 
 
AN EARLY MORNING RIDE 
 
 to pick up Mr. Edwin Markliam's "The Man with the 
 Hoe, and Otlier Poems,""' and, in looking tlirough its 
 fascinating pages, came u])on the following graphic 
 description of a mountain ride. It so nearly described 
 my own morning gallop that I decided to include it with 
 the other verses quoted in these pages. It is entitled : 
 
 THE JOY OF THE HH.LS 
 
 I ride on the mountain tops, I ride ; 
 I have found my life and am satisfied. 
 Onward I ride in the blowing oats. 
 Checking the field-lark's rippling notes — 
 
 Lightly I sweep 
 
 From steep to steep : 
 Over my head through the branches high 
 Come glimpses of a rushing sky ; 
 The tall oats brush my horse's flanks ; 
 Wild poppies crowd on the sunny banks ; 
 A bee booms out of the scented grass ; 
 A jay laughs with me as I pass. 
 
 I ride on the hills, I forgive, 1 forget 
 
 Life's hoard of regret — 
 
 All the terror and pain 
 
 Of the chafing chain. 
 
 Grind on, O cities, grind : 
 
 I leave you a blur behind. 
 I am lifted elate — the skies expand : 
 Here the world's heaped gold is a pile of sand. 
 Let them weary and work in their narrow walls : 
 I ride with the voices of waterfalls ! 
 
 I swing on as one in a dream — I swing 
 Down the airy hollows, I shout, I sing ! 
 The world is gone like an empty word : 
 My body's a bough in the wind, my heart a bird ! 
 
 **'The Man with the Hoe, and Other Puems," by Edwin Markham. Published by Doubleday & 
 McClure Co. Copyrighted, iSgg, by Edwin Makkham. 
 
 47 
 
IN THE HAY-FIKLD 
 
Chapter IV 
 
 IN THE HAY-FIELD 
 
 WE bejrin to make hay at Hilltop about 
 the lirst of Jul}', and, unless the con- 
 ditions are unusually favorable, it 
 re(]uires nearly the whole month to 
 harvest our entire crop. The tall 
 grass in the near fields around the 
 buildings and along the roadsides is 
 first cut with the scythe and put 
 into the barn. Then the machine is 
 brought forth from its winter quar- 
 ters, is oiled, put into thorough repair, and haying begins 
 in earnest in the larger fields more remote from the 
 house, and on the hillsides. The "tedder" and horse- 
 rake are soon brought into requisition, and the work is 
 divided up among the men. 
 
 If the weather is fine and hot, the grass which is cut 
 in the morning may be raked into " windrows" the same 
 afternoon, then stacked in the picturesque haycocks, 
 and later drawn to the barns, perhaps in the cool of the 
 evening of the same day. When showers threaten we all 
 
 5' 
 
WOODI.AM) AM) MKADOW 
 
 turn in and work 
 with a will, often 
 till darkness inter- 
 venes. There is 
 then an added zest 
 to tlie work, and a 
 merry sjiirit ot ri- 
 valry as well. 
 
 Sometimes, how- 
 ever, the harvest- 
 in jj; proceeds with 
 more leisnre. One 
 may occasionally 
 pa use i n on e's 
 work, perhaps it 
 may l)e ot cocking 
 the hay. and lean- 
 in<i; on the fork, 
 remove the lar<;e- 
 hrimmeil hat to 
 allow the sweetly 
 scented breeze to 
 cool one's damj)- 
 ened forehead. 
 How delicious is 
 rest alter physical 
 etfort ! Or, if one 
 
 IN I III'. II.AV-1 IKl.l) 
 
 l!v H. W. KiLi,in.\ 
 
 ^^^^p-^^H 
 
 
 ■^H 
 
 ^■f "^ 
 
 ^^^^■^1 
 
 r^^^^^^^l 
 
 ^^^^H 
 
 \ 
 
 fc^^^^S 
 
 p4S| 
 
 It 
 
 D 
 
 
 
 . .^ 
 
 "'^^'^^''TrSfes 
 
 jj^ ^ — ^r"^^ 
 
 ■ LITTLE FAR.VIERS" 
 52 
 
 Hy D.M^\ Wii.MiN AiJA\ 
 
IN THE HAY-FIELD 
 
 A HILLSIDE FARM 
 
 By B. W. KiLBiBN 
 
 AN ox TEAM LOAD 
 
 is well ahead of 
 the wagon in his 
 work, there may 
 be time to throw 
 one's self at full 
 length in the shade 
 of an overhanging 
 tree nearby and 
 there 
 
 ' ■ Sprawl out len'thways on 
 the grass 
 
 Where the shadders 're thick 
 and soft, 
 
 As the kiwers on the bed, 
 
 Mother fixes in the loft," 
 
 as James Whit- 
 comb Riley de- 
 scribes it 
 
 Have you ever 
 heard the sweet 
 crescendo of the 
 mowing machine, 
 resting thus, as it 
 is intermittently 
 l)orne to you on 
 the breeze from the 
 distant hay-field ? 
 Lazily close your 
 eyes as you lie 
 
WOODLAND AND MEADOW 
 
 there .'it full lcn<^tli on your brick in llie shade, or, 
 dream i I \' j^lanee u]) at the infinite hlne al)ove yon. be- 
 tween the patches ot the o\ LTlian,Lj;in,Lj; eano])y ot fj;reen, 
 and drink in dee]) drau.Lihts of sweetest sounds and 
 jier fumes. 
 
 " Thinkin' nf nUl eliums 'ats dead 
 Maybe, smiling back at you 
 In betwixt the beautiful 
 
 Clouds o' gold, and white and blue." 
 
 ClTTINc; THE H.AV 
 
 By Llewelyn Mokgan 
 
 Ah I This is a l-)eantifu1 world, and it is ,o;ood to l)e 
 alive in it ! I^ul here comes the wa,y;on for the last load 
 of hay, and all hands fall to and till it. 
 
 As we '^o InmberinL;; aloni,:; on our return to the l)arn, 
 we are met by the children half way home, and all are 
 imlled u\) on the load and inerril\- join in the ride, Ivven 
 
 54 
 
IN IHK HAY-IIELD 
 
 the dear baby is carefully lifted up, and, laughing and 
 crowing, is carried along with the others on her careful 
 nurse's lap. Thus do we return in triumph with our last 
 load of hav. 
 
 THE HAYMAKERS 
 
 By T. I. PKiiSToN, Jr. 
 
 55 
 
HARVESTING THE CORN 
 
Chapter V 
 
 HARVESTING THE CORN 
 
 S the September days begin to 
 grow shorter, and the nights 
 more cool, we prepare tor the 
 approaching Autumn frosts. 
 The potatoes are dug, dried, and 
 stored in the cellar. The oats 
 are cut, and later threshed, and 
 all hands and some extra "help" 
 are then summoned to harvest 
 the corn. 
 
 Field corn is "stucked" in 
 regular rows in the held and left 
 there to dry in the open air, 
 revealing, often, the big orange 
 pumpkins which gleam from the 
 vines between ; but fodder corn, 
 intended for ensilage, must be 
 harvested, hauled to the barns, 
 cut by the machine, and packed 
 away in the "silo" for the win- 
 ter use of the cattle, before it 
 has been touched by even the 
 lightest frost, else its sweetness 
 
 59 
 
WOODLAND AND NIKADOW 
 
 and much of its rcmnrkahlr nutritive jJroiitM'tics are gone. 
 
 The j^Towth of an (.'Utirc season of this. pL'rh.-ijJS the 
 most im])oitanl crop here, excejjtinu:; liaw is to he 
 •fathered. It is therefore a l)usy, and sometimes, mayhe, 
 an an.xious time for the farmer when he harx'ests the 
 corn. The uncertainty of tlie weather at this lime, as in 
 haying, is the element which adds a i)leasurea])le excite- 
 ment to the work, for tlie younger men at least, and 
 perha|)s lends a little more interest for all. 
 
 The machines, drawn by strong horses, arri\e from 
 a neighboring farm, where the}' have been at work, 
 sometime during the night. We are aroused bv a loud 
 halloeing, perhaps as early (or late) as two o'clock, and go 
 out into the clear, cool night to show nur helpers where to 
 j)Ul u]) their tired horses for the remainder of the night, 
 and to assist them in unloading and setting u]) their 
 apparatus ready for use at an early hour the next day. 
 Then a few hours more of rest, and we are all up betimes 
 for the work of the day. 
 
 Division ol labor is the secret of economical effort on 
 the t.'irm, as in the shop or factory, so we dix'ide our 
 force tor this, as for the other work at Hillto]i. Two 
 or three cutters are kejil busy in the field, cme man assist- 
 ing to h)a(l the wagons. Two teams are employed to 
 haul the corn, one returning emi)ty to the held, as the 
 other, ladened, approaches the barn. Several hands are 
 required in the barn, some to •■ feed" the machine, while 
 
 60 
 
■STUCKED- 
 
 By Ai.i-KtD Clhmems 
 
WOODI AM) AM) MKADOW 
 
 olliers attciul llic ciitkT and liorsc-pow LM", and onv in llic 
 "silo" ilsc'll, packing away and t read in, li; down i1k- fnu'h' 
 cut corn, as il jionrs owr the top Iroin ihc " rk'Nalor " a 
 {^uslun,^- stream ol Irai^ranl \c<^etation. Stalk, leaves, 
 and the small jiiicy cobs of corn arc all alike cnt into 
 small hits ot jicrhaps an inch in Icn.Lith, as thcv pass 
 thron^i^h the rapidly moxinjj; machine. 
 
 A second and third day are usually reciuired, as busy 
 as the tirst, to ccnnpletc the work ; then a layer ol clean 
 straw is placed thickly over the toji <d' the stored ensi- 
 lage, and we are ready lor the Irost when it comes. 
 
 Our cro])s are now all harvested and saleh' stored in 
 the barns. The lofts are tilled to overllowin.Li; ; ample 
 wood is slacked in the adjoining; sheds, and only the fall 
 "chores" remain to be done. 
 
 Time now permits of an occasional tranij) o\er the 
 hills with a camera, or the more social pleasure of an 
 afternoon dri\e with crowded seats tilled by closely 
 hnddled little ones. 
 
 The bright and toothsome "snow" a]iples are ri])e 
 alouj;- the roadside; blackberries, cold and moist with 
 Autnmn dew, are not yet entirely gone: and the beantitid 
 aster and goldenrod of Septeiuber, which skirts onr way, 
 are some of the treasures which are reserved tor the 
 hap])\- hands ot children to gather, as their prt)per har- 
 vest, on such rides as these. 
 
 And there are other harvests still to be gathered at 
 
 62 
 
HAUVESTING THE CORN 
 
 Hilltop-harvests of the Soul that are not to be described. 
 There are Golden Sunsets, Crimson Dawns ; Frosty 
 Nights, as clear and pure as the glitterinjr stars above 
 which iUumine them. And there are bright, mellow 
 days of Autumn, with the bright, spiritual beauty and 
 harniduv of changing foliage. 
 
 THE END OF UAV 
 
 By. Geo. W". Nokkis, M.D. 
 
AN AUTUMN WALK 
 
< 
 
 m 
 
 y. 
 
 c 
 
 D 
 O 
 
Chapter VI 
 
 AN AUTUMN WALK 
 
 CMKRSON has somewhere said, in re- 
 ply to one complaining tliat there 
 was nothing which seemed worth 
 doing, "to take a walk !" We have 
 certainly realized the trnth of the 
 sayings of the same genial philoso- 
 l)her : "That work is ever more 
 pleasant to the imagination which 
 is not now reqnired," and " How 
 wistfnlly, when we have promised 
 to attend the working committee, 
 we look at the distant hills and their 
 seductions." 
 
 In the pleasant month of October, when all the har- 
 vests have been gathered, there are sometimes occasions 
 wdien it is not necessary for the farmer " to attend the 
 working committee," and when he can therefore yield 
 to the seductions of the distant hills. At such times an 
 exhilarating walk over the brilliant fields and hills and 
 through the mellow autumnal woods ma}' be enjoyed. 
 
 67 
 
WOODLAND AND MKADOW 
 
 "We slmuld ,m> lorlli mi \\\v shdrtcsl walk," siivs 
 hdiwiu : '■ perchancL'. in the s])iril of nndyiiiLi; achen- 
 
 turc, never to re- 
 tnrn. — i)repared to 
 send l)aek our eni- 
 1) aimed hearts 
 on]\ as relies to 
 oiii- ilesolate kinjj;- 
 donis. II you are 
 ready to lea\e la- 
 ther and mother. 
 ])rollie]" and sister. 
 
 A TH()ROl'(.HBKI'.D By \V. I. Lincoln Adams and W 1 t e a n ll ellMll 
 
 and iriends, and ne\'er see them a^ain, — if you ha\e paid 
 \'()ui" debts, and made your will, and si^'ttled all your 
 affairs, and are a free man. then you are ready tor a 
 walk." ()nly in the autumn ean the farmer ai)])ro.\imate 
 this standai'd of freedom, and eonse'|uent !y enjoy to the 
 fullest a random tramp o\ er the allurin,!^' eountry side. 
 
 W hat a succession of pictures present themselves as 
 we ramble on I First, are tlie lon<j;, snujoth stretches of 
 "mow lields," reaehinjj; far up the hillside, on whieh the 
 pietures(iue cattle are comfortably j^razin;j; on the rich 
 "fall feed." This makes the most effective fore^jjround 
 for the hills and woods be\'ond, a soft autumn sky com- 
 pletinjj; the ])icture above. And w hat a keen pleasure it 
 is to walk over the smooth, sprinj^injjj sward in the brisk, 
 
 68 
 
AN AUTUMN WALK 
 
 bracinj^- air ot a northern October 1 Then we come to 
 the ])asture itself on the other slope of the hill, and fol- 
 low the winding cow-path to the brook and the woods 
 bevond it. The cattle have made excellent trails thron^^^h 
 the woodlands, also, along which we can walk nnimpeded. 
 
 GRAZING 
 
 By W. I. Lincoln Adams 
 
 Here we find always so much to interest. IVrhaps it 
 is a flock of young partridges wdiich we startle up and 
 which instantly scatter in all directions. Possibly a stray 
 fox darts across our path, or a rabbit, and we can always 
 witness the brisk antics of pert little chipmunks or the 
 
 69 
 
\VCK)ni.\ND AM) MEADOW 
 
 red and ll.\in^- s(iiiirrcls. The ta]i])in<^ ol the woodpecker 
 on hollow irnnks resounds loudlx' ihrou.i^h forest aisles; 
 
 ripened nuts are 
 dropping on the 
 dead leaves at our 
 feet : the sooth injj; 
 wind sways gen- 
 t]\- the topmost 
 branches overhead 
 a n d 1 e n (1 e ]■ I y 
 brushes the colnr- 
 iuL!,' lea\"es to tln.'ir 
 winter resting- 
 place l)elow. It is 
 a time to be silent 
 and listen. Nature 
 will speak to the 
 
 A liOWI.DER Hy Daisv Wilson Adams rCVCreTlt SOUl. 
 
 Wandering through the woods brings us at length to 
 a clearing where timber has been cut. A further stretch 
 ot woodland takes us to a more distant hill, from which 
 the picturesipie little village, which is our "city," of 
 Northern New England, can he seen, as the eagle sees it 
 from the crags, nestling among the foot-hills below, 
 along the winding river's conrse. 
 
 We return by the country highway in the waning 
 light oi the autumn afternoon, and our shadows, growing 
 
 70 
 
AN AUTUMN WALK 
 
 long on the road at our backs as the sun settles down 
 before us in the west, we are reminded, l)y the golden 
 light, of that memorable walk, not unlike our own, which 
 is described by Thorcau in his classic essay on walking. 
 "I was walking in a meadow," he writes, " the source of 
 a small brook, when the sun at last, just before setting. 
 
 FERNS Hy D.\ls^ Wiis.iN Adams 
 
 after a cold gra}^ da}', reached a clear stratum in the 
 horizon, and the softest, brightest morning sunlight fell 
 on the dry grass and on the stems of the trees in the op- 
 posite horizon, and on the leaves of the shrub-oaks on the 
 hillside, while our shadows stretched long over the 
 meadow eastward, as if we were the only motes in its 
 
 7' 
 
WOODLAND AND MKADOW 
 
 l)eam. ■"■ ■" ''■■ WC w.-ilkcd in so pure ami l)ri,!j,iit a 
 li.^li' .^"il'liii,^ 'li'-' \villK'i"r(l i^rass and lca\'es, so sollly and 
 serenuh- hri^hi, I iliou.i^ht 1 had nc\cr bathed in such a 
 5j;olden flood, without a ripple or a murmur to it. 1 he 
 west side ol e\'er\' wood and rising ground Lileame(l like 
 I he houndarv ol' Eh' slum, and the sun on our hacks seemed 
 
 DKIVINT, HiiMK THE COWS Uy \V. I. Lincoln Adams 
 
 like a gentle herdsman dri\in^ us home at e\enin,i;;." 
 And so we return to oni' home in tlu.' tender twili.i^lit. 
 and, as we draw near, the cows are seen u ending:; tlK'ir 
 la/.v wav harnwards, dri\en from the pasture, with many 
 shouts and ij;estures, hxtwosm.dl farmers who teel \erv 
 ])\<^ in the independence ol their u^elul occniialion. 
 
X 
 PI 
 
 P 
 r 
 
 > 
 
 P! 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^Hj^^^^^mH^^HflB 
 
 ^,... 
 
 H'# 
 
 
 ^B: ^' 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 ^^B '^ 
 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 
 ^B >' 
 
 
 ^B ^ 
 
 
THE GOLDEN HOUR 
 
rWlIJGH 1 
 
 Uy AKiHiK \Vl■.^^^^oKlll Sen 
 
Chapter VII 
 
 THE goldp:n hour 
 
 # 
 
 J 
 
 HE evening meal over, we as- 
 cend the hill to \ie\v the splen- 
 dors of the sunset hour. 
 
 A bank of softest cloud 
 rests lightly ^n the Vermont 
 hills across the liver, and in It) 
 it, as on a bed of down, the 
 glowing sun is slowly sinking. 
 Iri^Vii^^S^ •'v-v*5»»^ NUnv appears the faintest blush 
 
 H^^^^P* ••^^^ *^^ ^ most delicate ])ink suffus- 
 
 ing the western sky. This 
 tender color gradually deepens as the sun slowly settles 
 lower into his evening resting place, and a redder tint is 
 given to the surrounding clouds. 
 
 Slowly mounting higher toward the zenith, and ex- 
 tending farther along the horizon on both sides of the 
 sun, this suffusion of red changes to more brilliant tints, 
 until ere long a gorgeous crimson paints the evening sky. 
 The sun is now breaking through little irregular rifts 
 and openings in its splendid enveloping cloud forms, 
 transforming their edges to immaculate gold, and bathing 
 all the skv between in an ideal flood of golden glorv. 
 
 77 
 
<: 
 u 
 </> 
 
 Q 
 T. 
 
 < 
 
 Z. 
 
 < 
 
THK G()I.np:N HOUR 
 
 The crimson tints above are softened bv this mcHow 
 glow and are exquisitely blending, in indescribable 
 transitions of light and color. 
 
 The slo\vl_v floating clouds above the western horizon 
 appear to the exalted imagination of the beholders as 
 islands of the blessed drifting on a golden sea. They drift, 
 they float, they separate and change color, revealing with 
 ever}^ change of form and tint a greater glory of the sun. 
 
 Now bursts ui)on our enraptured gaze the very apo- 
 theosis of the sunset hour. The cloud forms are scattered 
 to the right and left, and the delicate tints of color are 
 overwhelmed in a last transcending flood of light. The 
 sun has touched the transfigured edge of the western 
 hills. It gently glides, imperceptibly, below them, pour- 
 ing out, as it settles lower, above and abroad, in a last 
 benediction of color and light, a glory wliich transforms 
 the face of nature, and the faces, as well, of two enrap- 
 tured children of God, who stand, hushed and breathless, 
 in awe of His revelation. 
 
 This is the golden hour; this, the Spiritual Light which 
 will never fail ; but will shine on, in memory, forever. 
 
 " At the wood edge, what time the sun sank low, 
 We lingered speechless, being loath to leave 
 The cool, the calm, the quiet totich of eve, 
 And all the glamour of the afterglow. 
 We watched the purple shadows lengthen slow. 
 
 Saw the swift swallows through the clear air cleave. 
 And bats begin their wayward flight to weave, 
 Then rose reluctantly, and turned to go. 
 
 79 
 
X 
 
 5 
 
 X 
 
TME GOLDEN HOUR 
 
 " But ere wu won buyond the warder trees, 
 
 From out tlie dim deep copse that hid the swale 
 
 Welled of a sudden flutelike harmonies 
 
 Floodinjj the twilight, scale on sds'ery scale. 
 
 As though we heard, far o'er the sundering seas. 
 The pain and passion of the nightingale."* 
 
 With clasped hands and beating liearts we silenll}' 
 descend tlie hill. The light of day is over and evening- 
 draws near. We reach the winding road below which 
 leads ns to the home. A distant tingle of the solitary 
 herd bell breaks the hushed silence ; and the mellow 
 sound of the vesper chime is faintly borne on the evening 
 wind from the hamlet's little church across the river. The 
 first dear star of evening shines dimly through the darken- 
 ing blue; the mist}' half-moon grows more brilliant in the 
 twiliLrht, and the "-atherinu' dusk is settling on the farm. 
 
 Swt'fl is Kvenin^'s Triiiuniil Huui 
 
 Itv }•'«% H. r,i 
 
 *" The Wood Thrush at Eve," by Clinton Scollasd, in the Atlantic Monthly for July, 1899. 
 
 81 
 
AT DUSK 
 
Chapter VIII 
 
 AT DUSK 
 
 WITH dusk, an indescribable spirit 
 of contentment settles upon the 
 farm. In the softly waning li.trht 
 one wanders to the barns, after 
 the (golden hour of enjoyment of 
 the sunset glories from the hill. 
 The dim outlines of the horses' 
 rounding backs can scarce be 
 discerned from the stable door, 
 and the faithful animals seem 
 larger than they really are in the 
 dusk. The comfortable sound of munching bay is dis- 
 tinct in the stillness of the evening, and the cheerful 
 chirrup of the crickets in the lofts above. The occa- 
 sional rattle of a halter's ring against the iron of the feed 
 box makes softer and more peaceful, l)v contrast, the 
 gentle sound of evening. 
 
 Then one turns to the stabled cows in the large barn 
 across the yard. And here the same sense of peaceful 
 content is emphasized. The fodder rustles against the 
 
 85 
 
WOODLAND AND MEADOW 
 
 stanchions in a most sootliin^:; wav. ami thr sound 
 ot tossin.Li horns and an occasional swish of tails are 
 
 the ai)])roiiriatc accom- 
 ])aniincnts. 
 
 As one i)asscs under 
 the shells in ret urn in, u:;, the 
 slee]»\' fowls are partialh' 
 aroused and utter their 
 drowsy ni'^lit chutt^'r in a 
 mild surjirise which is not 
 cilarm. They are perched 
 u])on the "sprin,^;" cart, 
 the wooden body of the old 
 tarm wa^on, and well nii^h 
 exerywhere else beneath 
 the cover, save on the 
 ])oles which the thou.y;ht tul 
 farmer has placed there 
 tor their express accom- 
 
 ByJ.M.C.GK..,.: j-nodatiOH. 
 
 And so out a;j;,-nn in the e\enin^\ now under the 
 stars. 'I'here remains hut the l.aintest tin^e of darken- 
 \n'^ red ahoxe the western hills, the friendly stars are 
 brij^htly jj;lislenin.L:; now in the deep blue ot the evenin,!,^ 
 sky ; the hall-moon makes soft, lon.t;' masb^es ot shadow, 
 with the barns, the house and the lari;e trees standini^' 
 near, as she j4;li(les from beneath the.^entl\' passinij; elomls. 
 
 I WII.K.HT 
 
 86 
 
o 
 
WOODI.AXD AND MEADOW 
 
 A l)c\y ot lately ucaiicd chicks arc staiilcd in their 
 orjihancd sleep as the ])asserhy stei)s close to their cosv 
 restin.tj; i)lace. They hi\e cuddled tor niulual warmth 
 and com tort beside a larj^'e stone neai" the path, where 
 the shelterin.i^- grass grows a little higher on one side. 
 Hut tlu'y (juickly siibsi<le in sleei)y assurance as t 1k' toot 
 falls more distantly on the \)n{h to the house, and their 
 contented " peep-a-peep, peeps" are the last domestic 
 
 I.ATIC IIAKVRSTERS 
 
 By Ge.i. VV. NiiRKis. M.D. 
 
 sounds of farm life to reach the ears of him w ho passes 
 along. 
 
 It is good io stand unco\ered here, on a night like this, 
 under the summer stars. The cool night breezes come 
 up trom the meadows, sweet with the jiertumcs ot the 
 newh' mown haw The solitary w hippoorwill is heanl in 
 the more distant wood below xoicing hi^ e\ening praise. 
 All nature seems composing toi' the jjcace ot the night. 
 
 88 
 
AT DUSK 
 
 The farmer's day is over, the evening "chores" are 
 done ; all creatures of the farm are content, and rest 
 awaits the man. Rest and love ! Cannot he too be con- 
 tent? With uncovered head and opened soul a moment 
 longer he lingers here, alone with God. " * * * * Then, 
 the light and warmth and the love within. 
 
 ' Now was the day departing and the air embrowned with shadows" 
 
 By Gko. W. XoKi-is, M.D, 
 
 89 
 
WHEN IT RAINS 
 
Chapter IX 
 
 whf:n it rains 
 
 |HAT do you do when it rains?" 
 sometimes asks the casual visitor 
 at Hilltop. A rainy day is often 
 the l)usiest day of the week on 
 the farm, for indoor occupations 
 and necessary work about the 
 barns and farm buildings, which is 
 neglected in fair weather, accumu- 
 lates for the rain}^ day which is sure to come sooner 
 or later. 
 
 The rain}" day is the stock-taking time for the me- 
 thodical farmer. In it he straightens out his affairs, he 
 puts things in order, he balances his books. The little 
 jobs he can never find time to do on pleasant days he 
 readily performs when skies are dark. 
 
 And what a day it is for the children ! The old tool 
 house is transformed to the busiest of workshops on 
 rainy da3's. There are gigantic kite frames to be made, 
 
 93 
 
WOODI.AM) AM) MKADOW 
 
 boat models to be lasliioiK'd, ;in<l all sorts and conditions 
 of lliin,!j;s, usctul and ol no discowrabk- nsc, to l)c con- 
 structed or taken ajjart. 
 
 Then llicre is the oM attic oN'cr the "ell." tilled with 
 the accunmlation of the <j;enerations, wonderfnl and mys- 
 terions things for curious childhood to examine — 1)roken 
 toys and once familiar playtliin,iL.!;s which haw been dis- 
 carded in former years, or the castaways ot older brothers 
 and sisters. What more <leli(i;ht ful things than these 
 when discovered b\' the ea<j;er children on rainy-day 
 excursions in the old farm attic. They return to the 
 workshop in the barn laden with their new found treas- 
 ures, and rehal)ilitate them in iheirown orii.;-inal ways. 
 
 But when, after se\'eral days of continuin^i;' rain, as 
 sometimes happens in the country, there has been time 
 and to spare for all the indoor duties to be done, there 
 comes a time when nothing i)arlicular is i)ressin<.r_ 
 when, in fact, the larmer is free to take u]) some new and 
 congenial occupation, or do nothing at all, as his mood 
 may incline. 
 
 Absent friends, always rememl)crcd, are especially 
 brou,tj;ht lo mind, when i1k' ha])ii\' hours enio\'e(l loL^ether 
 in former da\"s, like these on the tarm, are b\' them re- 
 called. 'Their cherished letters are lin,L:;erin<.il\' reread 
 and read a;.i;ain, and ihe warm res])onse which ihcv al- 
 ways awaken is ^i\en full and free exjiression in this 
 hap])y hour ot leisure. What is so good as writing thus 
 
 94 
 
LOWEKV \VEATH1U> 
 
 By A. HuKSLE\ HiNKi: 
 
WOODLAND AND MEADOW 
 
 to the friend of one's youth — unless it be the receivinj^ of 
 such a letter from the absent one. 
 
 "Retirement, rural quiet, friendshiji, books. 
 Ease and alternate labor," 
 
 writes the ])()et, Thomson, in his "Seasons," and so from 
 distant friends we turn to those other friends wbo are 
 never absent, silent or speakin;^ as our mood may be. 
 There the\' are in tdlurin^ rows, tew in nnml)L'r 1)u1 
 choice of s])irit. With books, as with i)eo])le, it is ever 
 true that there are no friends like the old friends. New 
 books and i)apers come to our farm, but always to the old 
 favorites we return wlien time gives opportunity b)r con- 
 genial reading. We glance along the tamiliar backs ot 
 Emerson's gracious volumes, Thoreau's ICxcursions and 
 Life at Walden or on the Merrimack £ind Concord ri\ers. 
 There, too, are the books of Hui roughs and ot Richard 
 Jeiifries, with their lellow lovers of nature, both here and 
 in England. "I'he Old South" stories of Page and Cable, 
 so different and yet all so charming. The delightful 
 " I^rue and I " of Curtis, which never fails to l)riug its lull 
 mead of cheer and jo\' on rain\- afternoons like this, read 
 here in the cozv nook for books, or taken to the barn and 
 enjoyed iii>ou the fragrant hay, where tirst we teh the 
 tender charm ot these gentle friends and lo\ers. And 
 here are poets, too — 
 
 " Oootl to have a poet to fall back upon." 
 96 
 
W(X)DLAND AND MKADOVV 
 
 as Edward Rowland Sill. Inmself a faxoriti' \nK-\, has 
 naixrly siin,^'. 
 
 " Pure Longfellow, great Emerson, 
 And all that Shakespeare's world can give." 
 
 Burns, who was farmer loo, as well as poet and ])hi- 
 losojiher, and Paul Laurence Dunbar, the Hums ot our 
 own South. 
 
 We lake to the hay to-day the farm lyrics of our dear 
 Hoosier poet, James Whitcomh Riley, and as we re-read 
 "The Harper," an old faxorite, restin<^ at lull ]cn;j;th up- 
 on the clo\'cr under llie raflers and di i])pin.L:; shin,iL:;les, we 
 are taken hack to earlier days wdK'U 
 
 "The rain above, and a mother's love, 
 .\nd God's companionship ! " 
 
 made the world and life fresh and hrii^ht. 
 
 " Patter and drip and tinkle ! 
 And there was the little bed 
 In the corner of the garret. 
 
 And till,- rafters overhead ! 
 
 " And there was the little window — 
 'I'inkle and drip and drip ! 
 'rhe rain above and a mother's love. 
 And (rod's companionshij) ! " 
 
 "The rain above, and a mother's love," and ■""■ " ■"'■ " 
 "The rafters oxerhead " become sinjrularly l.iuiiliar 
 ■;:■ •::■ ■;:- •::■ ••'fjnkle and diip aiul di'i])" ■"■ "■ ■'•■ ■■■■ and .^ently 
 and tenderly descends the delicious unconsciousness that 
 rarely falls to mortals save to the farmer's boy. 
 
 9S 
 
WHEN IT RAINS 
 
 On ret urn in. ij; to the honse in the clearing; lij^hl of the 
 late afternoon, our little boy, who has a taste for dippinjy 
 in the books, old and new, on shut-in da^^s like these, 
 meets us proudl_\' at the door with a new discover}'. In 
 an old volume of hymns he has found some verses which 
 " exactly describe our farm" (by changing here and there 
 a word or phrase), and so he has been bold to make, and 
 reads with much delight, the following paraphrase of 
 Faber : 
 
 There is a power to bless 
 In Hilltop's loneliness. 
 
 In woods and mountain places ; 
 A virtue in the brcjok. 
 A freshness in the look 
 
 Of meadows' joyful faces. 
 
 I. Ill IKS L1KI-. K \I\ 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
 99 
 
PHOTOGRAPHING OiN THE FARM 
 
Chapter X 
 
 PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 
 
 N pleasant afternoons, in the 
 fall of the year, when the 
 atmosphere is clearest and 
 the cloiul-forms most beauti- 
 ful, the alluriuo; landscape 
 of the farm is most tempting 
 for the camera. Then, too, 
 the da3's are cool and brisk, 
 and invite a breezy tramp 
 over the hills in search of the 
 picturesque. There are har- 
 vest scenes to be treasured, 
 stul)l)led corn-fields — 
 
 " Kind o' lonesome-like, but still 
 A-preaching sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill," 
 
 as the genial Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, has 
 so fascinatingh' sung to us ; and more extended land- 
 scapes, with magnificent cumuli-cloud skies — all to be 
 photographed at this time of the year more successfully, 
 perhaps, than at any other season. 
 
 On such days, I am afraid, the farmer with a camera, 
 
 103 
 
\N()()1)I AM) AM) MKADOVV 
 
 who lias a weakness tor picltires. finds that tliis weakness 
 is slron,L;;er than his sense of the duties to l)e ])er- 
 
 fonned. and ihe 
 " liired man " is 
 left unaided to 
 do the necessary 
 " chores." while 
 Ij the amateur ])lio- 
 to^rapher. who is, 
 after all. only an 
 amateur — not a 
 " real " -~ farmer, 
 as his little son 
 has observinjjjly 
 remarked, wan- 
 ders afield in 
 search of the pic- 
 
 •■THF. PATIENT l)ONKh\ By H. \V. KiLiii i.^ tUreS(|Ue. 
 
 lie has not tar to ,1^0 nor lon,!.^ to seek, for pictures 
 abound at the very door of a Xew l^n}j;land larm. In- 
 deed, e\'en the familiar, domestic scenes around the 
 farm-house itself, and the harn-xard too, are most suc- 
 cessful in jihotographs. Here are ^r()U])S of merry chil- 
 dren to he taken, frolicking:; with their jiatient donkey or 
 playing about the barn door as litlk' larmers ; the sunny 
 barn-vard. with faNorile cattle 01" horses ]irominent in 
 the foreground unconsciously assumiu,^;; the picturesque 
 
 104 
 
PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 
 
 groups which they always so naturally seem to form; 
 and simple fence corners, overgrown with a tangled 
 mass of hoi>-vine, woodbine and clematis in the generous 
 provision of Nature. 
 
 To illustrate the picture possibilities of a short walk- 
 in the immediate vicinity of our farm-house, 1 exi)()sed 
 the camera one afternoon tive times in rather (|uick suc- 
 cession on the road leading to the house from the to]) of 
 our hill. Each exposure was made only a few feet iron": 
 the preceding one, and the result of all the exposures, 
 while not particularly successful as technical photo- 
 graphs, Avere, I 
 think, about of 
 equal interest pic- 
 torially. 
 
 The first plate 
 is shown in the 
 initial illustration 
 to this paper. The 
 next, taken from 
 the center of the 
 same road onh* a 
 short distance 
 f r o m the first 
 standpoint, shows 
 
 FRIKNDS 
 
 liy H. VV. Kii-iuKN 
 
 the turn in the road, and the tops of the Wrmont hills 
 dimlv seen in the distance on the other side ot the ri\'er. 
 
 ■05 
 
PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 
 
 I then walked a little farther alon,o; and plaeed the eam- 
 era on the side of the hill and made another exposure. 
 In this ])ietiire is shown a deeided change of sk}', such as 
 one may ohserve in the country so often at this time of 
 the year. The soft, ohscuring- clouds suddenly bright- 
 ened, St) that their outlines became indistinct when pho- 
 tographed, and made it impossible to save the distance, 
 even by a considerabl}^ shorter exposure. 
 
 1 then stepped upon the road again and walked along 
 to where the old orchard skirts the highway. It was 
 growing later now, and the afternoon clotids once more 
 assumed the charming subdued color which reproduces 
 so beautifully in a photograph when correctly timed ; 
 the branches of the trees are delicately drawn against 
 the afternoon sky. and the top of the barn is just appear- 
 ing in the distance over the crest of the hill. 
 
 The last scene of all is the farm-house itself, softly 
 outlined in the fading light. The Vermont mountains 
 appear dimly in the distance beyond the Connecticut, 
 and the setting sun is suggested, rather than shown, by 
 the breaking light of the clouds overhead. The faithful 
 farm dog happens to l)e standing in the center of the 
 road, looking very natural there in the landscape, as I 
 expose my last plate. 
 
 A walk in any other direction would have been found 
 to abound in as man}' subjects for the camera. Wher- 
 ever you go in the countrv, whether it be across the 
 
 107 
 
X 
 
PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 
 
 tields, through the woods, or over the hills, attractive 
 pictures are to be seen at every hand, and nothing helps 
 us to appreciate and enjoy them so much as the modern 
 hand-camera. 
 
 There is also a large and fruitful held for the camera 
 on the farm in photographing natural objects in their 
 local setting. The study of the natural sciences is greath' 
 assisted by such photographs, and is certainly rendered 
 much more interesting and instructive. Growing speci- 
 mens of wild flowers make loveh" pictures in their natural 
 setting in the woods or meadows, and may be easily pho- 
 tographed even by the beginner. To catch the living 
 specimens of l)irds or the wild creatures of the woods is 
 not so simple a matter, though this, too, is often very suc- 
 cessfully done. The value of the camera to science in this 
 connection is only l)eginning to be demonstrated, and 1 
 think the work of such successful students as Mrs. Mabel 
 Osgood Wright, Dr. and Mrs. Thomas S. Roberts, Cherry 
 and Richard Kearton, Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, Mr. Frank M. 
 Chapman, and others, is not appreciated at its real value. 
 
 The apparatus which 1 have found, all things con- 
 sidered, to be the most serviceable on the farm is the 
 folding hand-camera making pictures four by hve inches 
 in size. Such a camera can be carried conveniently in 
 the hand and used (juickly for "snap-shots" at fleeting 
 subjects ; or it can be employed with a light tri])od tor 
 making more exact pictures, such as architectural photo- 
 
 109 
 
PHOTOGRAPHING ON THE FARM 
 
 graphs of buildings, out-of-door groups, and carefully 
 composed landscape and extended pictures. 
 
 I alwa3's use plates of moderate sensitiveness, and, 
 notwithstanding their greater weight than films, find 
 them, on the whole, much more satisfactory My cam- 
 era is arranged so that three double light plate-holders, 
 carrying six plates in all, can be conveniently stored in 
 it. The}^ do not weigh appreciably more than a "loaded" 
 roll-holder, and, as a rule, six exposures are all I can 
 make with a proper amount of discrimination on an 
 ordinary outing. For a longer trip, three extra holders of 
 four-l>y-tive size can very easily be carried in the pocket, 
 which provides for an even dozen exposures in all. 
 
 Photographing scientific subjects, such as the native 
 birds and animals in their natural surroundings, requires 
 rather special apparatus, and for this kind of work 1 
 would refer the amateur to the Messrs. Kearton's two 
 books" on this subject, particularly to the chapters de- 
 scribing their apparatus and their methods of using it. 
 
 Developing and i)rinting can be put out to be done 
 by a professional who makes a business of this work, or 
 it can very easily be accomi)lished by one's self on the 
 farm. Personally, I prefer to do all the work myself, as 
 I can then conti'ol all the details of the various processes, 
 and come nearer to obtaining the efifect desired than 
 when 1 leave it to an outsider to perform who has not the 
 same interest which I have in the result. 
 
 *" With Nature and a Camera " and "Wild Life at Home." 
 
 I I I 
 
WINTER DAYS 
 
Chapter XI 
 
 wintp:r days 
 
 vl' 'Jk^'V'; FTER the inevitable " lanuarv 
 thaw," we usually have our cold- 
 est weather and the deepest 
 snows in New Hampshire. 
 
 The day may have been a 
 genial, sunny one, suggestive of 
 the near approach of spring. 
 The water has monotonously 
 dripped, dripped all day from the melting snow on barn 
 roofs and l:)uil;lings, and in the middle of the road the 
 snow is soft and wet, letting the sleigh runners in deep 
 as the horses splash along the country liighwa}'. 
 
 But during the night the wind changes, the mercury 
 falls abruptly many points, and a complete transforma- 
 tion takes place. We awaken in the morning to find 
 ourselves in a new world, glistening and glittering in 
 transcendent purity. The trees are bowed with the 
 weight of their celestial fruitage. Bushes and shrubs 
 are a mass of dazzling brilliancy, flashing back prismatic 
 radiance from thousands of iridescent ice jewels. Long 
 
 115 
 
rilK Uk'KiK IN WlNTEk 
 
 lt> K. KlckbME^ KK, Jh, 
 
WINTER DAYS 
 
 and ponderous icicles lianjj; from the barn eves, where 
 3'esterday the snow water incessantly dropped. And the 
 snow underfoot crunches and creaks, and is crusty and 
 icy in the roadway and paths. The broad white stretches 
 of hillside and meadow sparkle and glisten in the morn- 
 ing sun. The air is so crisp and clear, and "hollow," 
 as the farmer calls it, that well-known distances seem 
 not half so great as they really are. The hoary head of 
 old Lafayette, for instance, Avhich is at least fifteen miles 
 away from our standpoint in the picture, appears to be 
 not over five ; while Mount Washington itself, which is 
 over twenty-five miles distant from our hill, in an air- 
 line, seems to be about as near as Lafayette. 
 
 After enjoying these distant views, we turn ti> the 
 woods, where the most wonderful winter pictures await 
 us. Hei^e, as James Russell Lowell has so beautifully 
 described in his vision of Sir Launfal, we behold, in awe : 
 
 ' ■ Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt, 
 Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees 
 Bending to counterfeit a breeze ; 
 Sometimes the roof no fretwoik knew, 
 But silvery mosses that downward grew ; 
 Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 
 With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf ; 
 Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 
 For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and licre 
 He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops 
 And hung them thickly with diamimd drops, 
 That crystaled the beams of moon and svm ; 
 And made a star of every one : 
 No mortal builder's most rare device 
 
 1 1 7 
 

 THE WAV OF BEAUTY 
 
 
 '^*'(Sei« 
 
 Bv B. \V. Ki 
 
WINTER DAYS 
 
 Could match this winter-palace of ice ; 
 
 'Twas as if every image that mirrored lav 
 
 In his depths serene through the summer day, 
 
 Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, 
 
 Lest the happy model should be lost, 
 
 Had been mimicked in fairy masonry 
 
 By the elfm bviilders of the frost." 
 
 We come to the close of another winter day, tired 
 with our lonjj; tramp through the silent woods and over 
 the snow-clad hills, and hungry, ah, so hungry" ! A snap- 
 ping wood hre is merril}' blazing in the open fireplace, 
 lighting up the cozy farm-house sitting-room with a ros_v 
 glow, and tlirovving fitful shadows on the quaintly 
 papered walls and low ceiling. 
 
 " Shut in from all the world without, 
 We sat the clean-winged hearth about. 
 Content to let the north wind roar 
 In baffled rage at pane and door. 
 While the red logs before us beat 
 The frost line back with tropic heat ; 
 
 What matter how the night behaved ? 
 W^hat matter how the north wind raved ? 
 Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
 Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow." 
 
 With the setting of the suu another change has been 
 taking place, the "north wind" has indeed l^egun to 
 "rave" as the lines of Whittier suggest, and snow is 
 falling again, driving against the window panes with 
 ever-increasing force. The snow continues all night, 
 and most of the following day, until by the next even- 
 
 119 
 
^^' 
 
 ■»y V 
 
 \ 
 
 :^^ 
 
 r- - ■■ Ml. ■ 
 
 
 
 y 
 
WINTER DAYS 
 
 ing it lies deep around the little farm-house. snu.t;Iy 
 shutting it in, and completeh' obliterating the road in 
 front. It has tilled n\) all the paths around the buildings 
 and lies deepest of all in the leatfess woods. To-da\' it is 
 as light and dry as the finest me^d or sand. It thickly 
 covers ever^^thing. To (juote again from "The Snow- 
 l)ound" of Whittier, — 
 
 "We looked upon a world unknown, 
 On nothing we could call our own. 
 Around the glistening wonder bent 
 The blue walls of the firmament, 
 No cloud above, no earth below, 
 A universe of sky and snow ! 
 The old familiar sights of ours 
 
 Took marvelous shapes ; strange dome.= and towers 
 Rose up where st}' or corn-crib stood ; 
 Or garden wall, or belt of wood ; 
 A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed. 
 A fenceless drift what once was road." 
 
 No time for idling now ; paths are to be made and 
 the road broken through. A profusion of snow like this 
 is what the provident farmer has been eagerly waiting 
 for to "log in" his wood from the forest, where it has 
 been felled and piled earlier in the season. The snow 
 fills up all the ineiiualities of the rude wood-roads, so that 
 what would otherwise be an almost impossible task be- 
 comes now comparatively easy. The patient oxen wal- 
 low along in the fieecy wbiteness readily hauling tbe 
 huge logs which slip along on the snow behind ; the 
 accompanying men are on snow shoes. 
 
 I 2 I 
 
WOODI.ANl) AM) MEADOW 
 
 So. with seasonable recreations and lai)ors the short 
 winter days are liapi)ily tilled. Vhc i|uiet, restful even- 
 ings are no less enjoyed, and w hen. at an earlv liour, we 
 betake ourselves to bed. sleep soon steals on, 
 
 " . . . as slc'L']) will do. 
 When licarts are ligti' and lite is new." 
 
 I'DETIC WlNTliR 
 
 By li. \V. KiiiUKS 
 
 1 2. 
 
Amateur Photography 
 
 A Practical Guide for the Beginner 
 
 By W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS 
 
 Revised and enlarged. Fifth Edition. Illustrated with many half-tones and line engravings. 
 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 75 cents. 
 
 THE STANDARD HANDBOOK AND GUIDE 
 FOR THE AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER 
 
 Chapters on Apparatus, the Dark-rcom, Printing and Toning, Instantaneous Photography, 
 Flash-light, Composite Photography, Portraiture, etc , etc. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 
 
 '• Huth by lext and illustrati<)n the volume i^ a 
 tiiorouKli instructor in photography." 
 
 — /rtt£r-Oecati. Chicago. 
 
 " The best guide that has ever come ro our atten- 
 tion. A model of the publisher's art." 
 
 Journa/, Auguitti^ Mi'. 
 
 "We can ccinceive of no more appropriate gift for 
 holiday time than this b autiful book."' 
 
 (Stntrai Chriitinn Ath'ocatc. 
 " The book Is reliable as a guide." 
 
 — Xew y'ork 'I'ribune 
 '* A useful, practical guide for beginners." 
 
 — Outinp. 
 " A most valuable handbook for ama'eurs." 
 
 — Boston rravt-ie>-. 
 " The work is practical and helpful." 
 
 — 'J'hc Interior^ Chicago. 
 ' A practical guide for \\ic beginner." 
 
 — Cleveland Plaindiahr, 
 
 ' Full ijf clear and piactical instructions." 
 
 — AVtc York Ob^t'ri'cr. 
 * A valual)le little le.xt-book for amateurs." 
 
 Boston Transcript. 
 'This work will be hailed with d^'light by thai 
 large and growing class of amateur phott»gra- 
 phers."— .-J merican Journal v/ Lducation. 
 
 " One of the best presents to be found for any per- 
 son interested in photography.'* 
 
 — ll'csttrn Sportsman. 
 ■ This vf lume is thoroughly up lo date." 
 
 Christian Advocate. 
 
 "A very timely publication."— A'tim State /ourna/. 
 
 ** It is clear, concise, and easily understood." 
 
 — Montpetter Evening A rgus. 
 " The very best guide for the amateur photogra- 
 pher." — Kennebec Journal. 
 " The technique is made so plain that no one who 
 wishes to master the art can fail." 
 
 — Chrisiian Evan/^elitt. 
 " A compendium of all the latest processes, from 
 the ch«)ire of subject and the p:>sing to the 
 mounting of penny piclures " 
 
 —Pittiburg't DesP'itfh. 
 
 *' Contains all that is new and original in the an " 
 
 — Stbra<:ka State Journal. 
 
 " He writes for beginnersand he never forgets it." 
 Christian Standard. 
 
 ".Mr. Adams" treatment of his su jecl is clear, and 
 he gives a large amount information in a con- 
 cise iorm.'^-~f/art/o'd Con rant. 
 
 "Thf popularity of this work is shown by the fact 
 that the present is its fifth edition." 
 
 — AVw Orleans Picayune. 
 
 "A compact, original and decidedly useful text 
 
 book." — The Living A/e. 
 '■ One of the best primers in existence." 
 
 — AVw y'ork PretS. 
 
 " The bo'ik is wholly practical." Public Opinion. 
 
 "The whole rteld is g'mc over in this manner 
 t)ricfly and clearly. A b?M>k of instruction in 
 clear and >implc terms." 
 
 — fonrnal o/ Education. 
 
Sunlight and Shadow 
 
 A Book for Photographers 
 
 AiiKitcur and Protessional 
 By W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS 
 
 With more than 100 beautiful photo-engravings, many of them full-page pictures. Printed on heavy wood-cut 
 paper, with liberal margins and gilt edges. Beautifully and substantially bound in art canvas, with gilt design. 
 Second Edition. Third Thousar.d. Price, in a box, $2.50 
 
 It contains Chapters and Illustrations b/ such well-known photographic writers and workers as 
 
 H. P. ROBINSON ALFRED STIEGLITZ A. HORSLEY HINTON 
 
 R. EICKEMEYER, Jr. ' W. B. POST J. WELLS CHAMPNEY 
 
 B. ). FALK ALEXANDER BLACK W. A. ERASER 
 
 HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF SERMONETA and the MARQUIS DE ALFARRAS 
 
 It covers the field fully, a-, shojwn by the following 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Choice of Subject Outdoor Portraits and Groups Marines 
 
 Landscape Without Figures The Hand Camera Photography at Night 
 
 Landscape With Figures Instantaneous Photography Lighting in Portraiture 
 
 Foregrounds Winter Photography Photographing Children 
 
 The Sky Ait in Grouping 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 
 
 " If any one questions the fact that photography is becoming a fine art he only needs to look over the 
 charming pages of this volume and study the handsome illustrations ""—Ez-angeiis/, 
 
 *' It seems hai dly decent to resist any longer the claim certain phases of photography have to acceptance 
 as high ^rX..^'' — Current Literature. 
 
 " The illustrations, which are so handsome as to make the volume an artistic treasure, aside from its help- 
 fulness, are made from cjriginal photographs from nature.'—///^ Interior. 
 
 "■ An excellent book for the amateur photographer who has made some pro^jress in the practice of his art, 
 and may be quite as useful to the professiona'." - 7'/te Art Amateur. 
 
 " Its recommendations are universally judicious and practical."— The Critic. 
 
 " It contains valuable information as to the best methods of reaching perfection in pholcgrapy." 
 
 Minneapolis Tribune. 
 
 '* All very tasteful, very attractive."— Z.//<'rrtrj' Keivs. 
 
 " An appropriate gift to a friend interested in photography as an zm.^i^mt.'"'— Cleveland Plain Dealer. 
 
 "Altogether it makes the most handsome photographic book we have ever seen."' 
 
 — The riiotogyaphic Times. 
 
 " It would be difficult to imagine a mure delightful introduction to pictorial photography. 
 
 — Wilson s FhotOf,} aphic Magazine. 
 
 '* It is deserving of a hearty welcome, and should be in the hands of every one inleresied in the art." 
 
 -Snap Shots ^ 
 
 'We know no book or treatise on art from which so much may be learned so well and with the expendi- 
 ture of so little time." — //if Amtrican Amateur Photographer. 
 
 " A charming gift to any one who delights in picture making by photography." 
 
 The A mencan Journal of Photography. 
 
 ■'A book that will delight the heart of ph"tographers, whether amateur or professional."- CA/V/?^^' Post. 
 
 " Will be found very delightfjl and instructive."' — The Brooklyn EagU. 
 
 *' Shows that the camera may really be an instrument of fine zxX.'''' —Phiiadelpkia 7 imts, 
 
 " The greatest photographic publication that has appeared this year."— 7'he I^hotographic Rnorder. 
 
/// Nature V 
 
 Imntre 
 
 Chapters on Pictorial Photography 
 
 By W. I. LINCOLN ADANLS 
 
 Profusely Illustrated by Original Photographs from Nature. Large 8vo, cloth (uniform, 
 except in decoration, with "Sunlight and Shadow"). Third Thousand. 
 
 Price, full gilt, in a box, $2.50 
 
 An even more .ittr.ictivc book th.m " Sunlight .ind Shadow," treating itx .\ubiect 
 more from the point of view of portraiture, fif^ure composition, genre, etc. 
 
 Landscapes and Figures 
 Figures and Landscapes 
 Genre 
 
 ITS TOPICS ARE 
 
 Telling a Story 
 
 Models 
 
 The Nude in Photography 
 
 Portraiture at Home 
 
 Children 
 
 Photographing Flowers 
 Interiors 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 STIEGLITZ 
 
 ANNAN 
 
 FALK 
 
 TROTH 
 
 PUYO 
 
 RYDER 
 
 DUMONT 
 
 DAY 
 
 ADAMS 
 
 FRASER ROBINSON 
 
 KEIGLEY CHAMPNEY 
 
 And Many Others 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS 
 
 '" As an indication of what ni.iy In- accfniplislicd when iht- Ijl-^i clIurtN ul plmtoKraphcr, plaie-maker and 
 printer arc put forth, this mat.,'niticent book is at the head of its class."— />Vj/o« limes. 
 
 " It is a majrnihcL-ntly printed and sumptuously illustrated volume containing chapters cniwded with 
 practical hints.' —Christian Endeavor iVorid. 
 
 " A handsome volume which presents the artistic side of latter-day photography to its best advantage. The 
 pictuies are selected with jjreat care, and are among the best that we have ever seen grouped together. The 
 work is ahogether charming and appeals to the highest artistic sense."— ^Vf-tc York Times 
 
 '* Nothing finer in the way of tine book-making and half-tone work has been produced this season. The 
 best that the world can produce in the way of photography the author gives us in illustration of his sug- 
 gestive te.xl. "--/-/:'/«<■- Chinch. 
 
 "No writer on matters that interest the photographer, whether amateur or professional, has a larger 
 audience than \^. I. Lincoln Adams, "/fare/ord Fott. 
 
 " Another splendid work on piciorial photography."— .S7. Lout's Globf Democrat. 
 
 " \o photoymphcr, professional or amateur, can fail to derive inspiration and encouragement from the 
 beautifully illustrated pages of Mr. W. I. Lincoln Adams * In Nature's Image.' " — S'e-.u York Sun. 
 
 "This e.\<]uisite work ought t.^ be added to the library of every amateur photographer " 
 
 — i he Xort/nvrstern Amntrw . 
 
 " Wc cordially recommend it to our readers as cm()haticaHy thr photographic book of the year." 
 
 i^'iison''s i*HOtog*ttphic Afngazitie. 
 
 " It is a book that all photographers, whether profession jI or amateur, will delight in." — H'orcester S/*y. 
 "The book itself is an artistic treasure. Printed on heavy, cream laid paper, full ii'lt. "^^'ilh over a hundred 
 exquisite illustrations, it Is in every way a superb n'xii h^^a]x.." —I'rovidenie /ourntti. 
 
 " One of the most beautiful books recently pulilished. It is in every way a charming book." 
 
 — Brooklyn Standard Union. 
 
 "They (the illustrations) are so wtll done as to make the most difficult problems that confront the ama- 
 teur seem exsy, and they make the book a delight to the eye." — lirooklyn Li/e. 
 
 " There are nearly loo reproductions ofTeied. and the wide range of subjects treated shows that the cam- 
 era has invaded the brush-and-pencil artist's domain, and has accomplished wcnderful and artistic things." 
 
 - Chicago jLTening Pott. 
 
 " Mr. Adams is himself an expert with th? camera, and each chapter contains practical suggestions based 
 on years of experience in the different branches of photography."— Chieagi* Diai. 
 
H 96 
 
 89 
 
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