every summer in
the new home, together with Lucy Anthony, her sister and brother, Mrs.
Rachel Foster Avery, and other friends. We had special fishing costumes
made, and wore them much of the time. My nieces wore knickerbockers, and
I found vast contentment in short, heavy skirts over bloomers. We lived
out of doors, boating, fishing, and clamming all day long, and, as in my
early pioneer days in Michigan, my part of the work was in the open.
I chopped all the wood, kept the fires going, and looked after the
grounds.

Rumors of our care-free and unconventional life began to circulate, and
presently our Eden was invaded by the only serpent I have ever found in
the newspaper world--a girl reporter from Boston. She telegraphed that
she was coming to see us; and though, when she came, we had been warned
of her propensities and received her in conventional attire, formally
entertaining her with tea on the veranda, she went away and gave free
play to a hectic fancy. She wrote a sensational full-page article for
a Sunday newspaper, illustrated with pictures showing us all in
knickerbockers. In this striking work of art I carried a fish net and
pole and wore a handkerchief tied over my head. The article, which was
headed THE ADAMLESS EDEN, was almost libelous, and I admit that for
a long time it dimmed our enjoyment of our beloved retreat. Then,
gradually, my old friends died, Mrs. Dietrick among the first; others
moved away; and the character of the entire region changed. It became
fashionable, privacy was no longer to be found there, and we ceased to
visit it. For five years I have not even seen the cottage.

In 1908 I built the house I now occupy (in Moylan, Pennsylvania), which
is the realization of a desire I have always had--to build on a tract
which had a stream, a grove of trees, great boulders and rocks, and a
hill site for the house with a broad outlook, and a railroad station
conveniently near. The friend who finally found the place for me had
begun his quest with the pessimistic remark that I would better wait for
it until I got to Paradise; but two years later he telegraphed me that
he had discovered it on this planet, and he was right. I have only eight
acres of land, but no one could ask a more ideal site for a cottage; and
on the place is my beloved forest, including a grove of three hundred
firs. From every country I have visited I have brought back a tiny tree
for this little forest, and now it is as full of