st, and was more than ever
in doubt of the soundness of the good man's intellect.

In the meantime Wolfert went on digging, but the field was extensive,
and as his dream had indicated no precise spot, he had to dig at
random. The winter set in before one-tenth of the scene of promise had
been explored. The ground became too frozen and the nights too cold for
the labors of the spade. No sooner, however, did the returning warmth
of spring loosen the soil, and the small frogs begin to pipe in the
meadows, but Wolfert resumed his labors with renovated zeal. Still,
however, the hours of industry were reversed. Instead of working
cheerily all day, planting and setting out his vegetables, he remained
thoughtfully idle, until the shades of night summoned him to his secret
labors. In this way he continued to dig from night to night, and week
to week, and month to month, but not a stiver did he find. On the
contrary, the more he digged the poorer he grew. The rich soil of his
garden was digged away, and the sand and gravel from beneath were
thrown to the surface, until the whole field presented an aspect of
sandy barrenness.

In the meantime the seasons gradually rolled on. The little frogs that
had piped in the meadows in early spring, croaked as bull-frogs in the
brooks during the summer heats, and then sunk into silence. The peach
tree budded, blossomed, and bore its fruit. The swallows and martins
came, twittered about the roof, built their nests, reared their young,
held their congress along the eaves, and then winged their flight in
search of another spring. The caterpillar spun its winding-sheet,
dangled in it from the great buttonwood tree that shaded the house,
turned into a moth, fluttered with the last sunshine of summer, and
disappeared; and finally the leaves of the buttonwood tree turned
yellow, then brown, then rustled one by one to the ground, and whirling
about in little eddies of wind and dust, whispered that winter was at
hand.

Wolfert gradually awoke from his dream of wealth as the year declined.
He had reared no crop to supply the wants of his household during the
sterility of winter. The season was long and severe, and for the first
time the family was really straightened in its comforts. By degrees a
revulsion of thought took place in Wolfert's mind, common to those
whose golden dreams have been disturbed by pinching realities. The idea
gradually stole upon him that he should come to want. He already
c