omesteads; with an environment that is very close
to the heart of nature, it combines all that is most desirable and
beautiful in genuine country life. The old manor house is located on a
sightly elevation commanding a varied view of the surrounding hills and
fertile valleys; to the northwest are to be seen the foot-hills of Mt.
Washington, and easterly a two hours' drive will bring one to Old
Orchard Beach, and the broad, blue, delicious ocean whose breezes are
generously wafted inland to Quillcote.

Mrs. Wiggin is thoroughly in love with this big rambling house, from
garret to cellar. A genuine historic air seems to surround the entire
place, lending an added charm, and there are many impressive
characteristics of the house in its dignity of architecture, which seem
to speak of a past century with volumes of history in reserve. A few
steps from these ample grounds, on the opposite side of the road, is a
pretty wooden cottage of moderate size and very attractive, the early
home of Mrs. Wiggin. These scenes have inspired much of the local
coloring of her stories of New England life and character. "Pleasant
River" in _Timothy's Quest_ is drawn from this locality, and in her
latest book, _The Village Watch Tower_, many of her settings and
descriptions are very close to existing conditions.

Her own room and literary workshop is on the second floor of the house;
it is distinctively a study in white, and no place could be more ideal
for creative work. It has the cheeriest outlook from four windows with
a southern exposure, overlooking a broad grass plat studded with trees,
where birds from early dawn hold merry carnival, and squirrels find
perfect and unmolested freedom. A peep into this sanctum is a most
convincing proof that she is a woman who dearly loves order, as every
detail plainly indicates, and it is also noticeable that any display of
literary litter is most conspicuously absent.

Interesting souvenirs and gifts of infinite variety are scattered all
over the room, on the wainscoting, mantel, and in every available
niche; very many are from children and all are dainty tributes. A
picture of an irresistibly droll child face, of the African type and
infectiously full of mirth, is one of a great company of children who
look at you from every side and angle of the room.

Dainty old pieces of china, rare bits of bric-a-brac, the very broad
and old-time fireplaces filled with cut boughs of the spicy fir balsam