Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 104 December 1901 to May 1902 . y, too, since men began toread at all, they have found a peculiarcharm in reading out-of-doors—witnessthe old song, A book in a shady rare the page, it has seemed themore attractive from the illuminatedtraceries of sunny shadows softly sway-ing across it; tendrilled leaf shadows, andlittle darting shadows of birds. Our tree-top library systematizes and extends thispleasure. In place of one book we havea whole library practically as much as possible of the littleroom is glass. It is windowed all r
Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 104 December 1901 to May 1902 . y, too, since men began toread at all, they have found a peculiarcharm in reading out-of-doors—witnessthe old song, A book in a shady rare the page, it has seemed themore attractive from the illuminatedtraceries of sunny shadows softly sway-ing across it; tendrilled leaf shadows, andlittle darting shadows of birds. Our tree-top library systematizes and extends thispleasure. In place of one book we havea whole library practically as much as possible of the littleroom is glass. It is windowed all roundlike a light-house, and every window iscaressed by soft leaves and little tappingboughs. And all around you are birdsnests, and the dreaming chrysalis hiddenin the wrinkled bark. You can neverknow till you build your own nest highup in the boughs how much goes on with-in a seemingly idle tree during a sum-mer day: all the hard work and the pret-ty play, the tragedies and comedies, thewar that is waged and the love that ismade, from morning till moonlight; so. 542 HARPERS MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mirthful at morning with bands of sing-ing birds, so haunted at moonlight withbat and owl and ghostly moth; and may-be, if you blow out your lamp and keepvery still, somewhere about midnight, thedryad who lives in a dainty cupboarddown below will open her hidden doorand steal up to peer in through the win-dows at the moonlit shelves. IV I have always wished to sleep a nightout-of-doors, but till I built this libraryI never found an easy opportunity. Of course I didnt tell Perdita—thatwould have ruined all—and I chose astill summer night made of soft warmstars, and I waited till Perdita was fastlocked up in the fairyland of sleep. Likeall children, she sleeps, without knowingit, from moonrise to cock-crow, and evenlater; and I knew she would not miss did she. Had I been leaving herforever, she could not have slept a deepersleep. So, without the slightest hinder-ance, and with n
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