Oil wells in the woods . ymate proved to bemore enduring than the momentary excitement ofthe whirring wheels and clattering ropes; so whenthe novelty had worn away, my visits to her homewere once more renewed. One night as I lay sleeping, I dreamed my guard-ian angels face was like Ninas, and that she stoodwith outstretched wings beside my bed, imploringme to kill no more of Gods little creatures. Like most boys, I took special delight in killingsomething. It seemed to be my nature; but theinfluence for good which she possessed over me wassufficient to curb my destructive inclinations; butin t
Oil wells in the woods . ymate proved to bemore enduring than the momentary excitement ofthe whirring wheels and clattering ropes; so whenthe novelty had worn away, my visits to her homewere once more renewed. One night as I lay sleeping, I dreamed my guard-ian angels face was like Ninas, and that she stoodwith outstretched wings beside my bed, imploringme to kill no more of Gods little creatures. Like most boys, I took special delight in killingsomething. It seemed to be my nature; but theinfluence for good which she possessed over me wassufficient to curb my destructive inclinations; butin turn poor Carlo had to suffer. He would oftenlook reproachfully at me as if to say, What onearth is wrong with you lately? If I were to write on the formative influences of mylife, that is, those influences which tended to mouldmy character permanently, I would begin it by theinfluence of a good and loving mother, followed bythe influence of other good women I have known. October, with its frosty nights and sunny days[54]. THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE had now arrived, transforming the foliage into onehuge bouquet of intermingled scarlet and yellow,each tuft unconsciously betraying the location ofevery maple tree. Below Ninas house, on the bank of Ashbaugh Run,stood a great cave formed by a cluster of mammothsandstone bowlders. The footpath leading along thestream toward the river went directly through it. Many times had we explored its darkened chinksand corners, believing it had at one time been thehome of the Indians. Come, I said to Nina oneday, lets go down the hill and gather some prettyleaves. I saw some beautiful ones on a bush nearthe cave. So we sauntered down the slope, stop-ping now and then to pick the crow-foot and winter-green berries growing along the way. Crossing the brook on a fallen tree, we walkedtoward the mysterious cave, with its apex pointingtoward the sky, while its base remained firmly fixedand imbedded in old mother earth. Into its gloomyatmosphere hand in hand
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