New England bygones . ill tIio hoart of tho long forest, tlir la])pino; of a pond at nightu[ii)ii its shores. Tho horse shies at the waves and tliu driftwood,the wheels grind into the sand. The bridge at the outlet is saidto be treacherous, and the outlet itself is snll<Mi an<l daik. Inthe uiile-away horizon the mooidight brings out the one httlecottage by the inl<t, within a stones throw of which its ownerw^ent down through a vawnino; 1)reathinu;-hole, into which hehad driven from across the pond one cold winters night. Myconipani()n Tells tlie old story, and adds to it later acciden
New England bygones . ill tIio hoart of tho long forest, tlir la])pino; of a pond at nightu[ii)ii its shores. Tho horse shies at the waves and tliu driftwood,the wheels grind into the sand. The bridge at the outlet is saidto be treacherous, and the outlet itself is snll<Mi an<l daik. Inthe uiile-away horizon the mooidight brings out the one httlecottage by the inl<t, within a stones throw of which its ownerw^ent down through a vawnino; 1)reathinu;-hole, into which hehad driven from across the pond one cold winters night. Myconipani()n Tells tlie old story, and adds to it later we near the bridge and the iidet, which seems toyawn to swallow us in. We urge the horse carefully, and he,with half-human instinct, plants liis teet reluctantly u[»on the1:»ridge. It sags to one side, and the water ripples past thewheels. AVe hold our breaths for a minute, and then the pas-sage is made. It was a fonlish thing to do, but the risk gaveto me a remembered rare \oice of a solitary old
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherphila, bookyear1883
