One Summer. A Remmiscetice.
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��eluded that this was years ago a field, but now the cows roamed over it at will.
Going around in the edge of the woods I came to four pines growing from one root ; two grew on each side close together, and left a fine seat between the pairs. I sat down there, and felt thankful that I was living, and that my abiding-place was among the granite hills of New England.
Soon I saw something move a few rods beyond me in the woods. I looked again and saw the finest wood- chuck I ever saw. He stood in a listening attitude. I suppose he had heard me, but had not seen me. His fur was yellow and brown mixed ; his nose and feet were black ; his counte- nance was expressive of lively concern. He disappeared and I left my sylvan seat, and walked up where the wood- chuck had been standing. I found his home and numerous little tracks around the door. I hastened off, because I feared my presence would worry him.
I knew it must be near noontime, so I began to retrace my way. I walked up through the pasture and passed the "Great Ledge." This ledge was on the side of a steep hill. One side of it was perpendicular thirty feet. It was covered with crisp, gray moss. In the chinks and crannies on the top, short grass was growing in httle bunches.
As I followed down in the lane which led from the pasture to the cow- yard, striped squirrels were playfully skipping through the dilapidated wall, coming out, and disappearing; sitting down and putting their forefeet up to their faces as if they were convulsed with laughter to think how the old black-and-white cat had gone to sleep
��lying on the wall in the sun, only a few rods below them.
Dinner was ready, as I expected. I told Mrs. Wetherell of my walk over the Stony Bridge.
"Yes," she said. "Years ago, when I kept geese, one night I went out to feed them and I found that they had n't come. I knew something must be the matter. I started for the brook. When I got out on the hill by the graveyard, I heard the gander making an awful noise. I hurried on, and, when I got to the corner of the field, I found a fox jumping at the old gander as he was walking back and forth in front of the geese and goslings. I screeched and the fox run. The geese came right up to me. I was pretty pleased to save them. I had two geese and thirteen goslings beside the gander."
I said : " Is that a ledge out in the field where sumachs and birches are growing?"
Mrs. Wetherell said: "Yes; and that piece of ground is where Father Wetherell raised the last piece of flax. I don't suppose you ever saw any growing? "
" No," I said. " Only in gardens. A field must be very handsome."
" Yes, the flower is a bluish purple, with a little yellow dot in the middle."
I asked her when they cut it.
" O, they never cut it ; they pulled it after the seeds got ripe ; then they would beat the seeds out of the pods. These pods look like little varnished balls. When the seed was out, the flax was laid in a wet place in the field for weeks ; occasionally the men would turn it over. When it was well rotted they dried it and put it up in the barn until March. Then Father Wetherell would take it down and brake it in the
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