y one was to us both. By and by
the Deephaven warehouses will fall and be used for firewood by the
fisher-people, and the wharves will be worn away by the tides. The few
old gentlefolks who still linger will be dead then; and I wonder if some
day Kate Lancaster and I will go down to Deephaven for the sake of old
times, and read the epitaphs in the burying-ground, look out to sea, and
talk quietly about the girls who were so happy there one summer long
before. I should like to walk along the beach at sunset, and watch the
color of the marshes and the sea change as the light of the sky goes
out. It would make the old days come back vividly. We should see the
roofs and chimneys of the village, and the great Chantrey elms look
black against the sky. A little later the marsh fog would show faintly
white, and we should feel it deliciously cold and wet against our hands
and faces; when we looked up there would be a star; the crickets would
chirp loudly; perhaps some late sea-birds would fly inland. Turning, we
should see the lighthouse lamp shine out over the water, and the great
sea would move and speak to us lazily in its idle, high-tide sleep.

SELECTED STORIES AND SKETCHES

Contents

AN AUTUMN HOLIDAY

FROM A MOURNFUL VILLAGER

AN OCTOBER RIDE

TOM'S HUSBAND

MISS DEBBY'S NEIGHBORS

_An Autumn Holiday_

I had started early in the afternoon for a long walk; it was just the
weather for walking, and I went across the fields with a delighted
heart. The wind came straight in from the sea, and the sky was bright
blue; there was a little tinge of red still lingering on the maples, and
my dress brushed over the late golden-rods, while my old dog, who seemed
to have taken a new lease of youth, jumped about wildly and raced after
the little birds that flew up out of the long brown grass--the constant
little chickadees, that would soon sing before the coming of snow. But
this day brought no thought of winter; it was one of the October days
when to breathe the air is like drinking wine, and every touch of the
wind against one's face is a caress: like a quick, sweet kiss, that wind
is. You have a sense of companionship; it is a day that loves you.

I went strolling along, with this dear idle day for company; it was a
pleasure to be alive, and to go through the dry grass, and to spring
over the stone walls and the shaky pasture fences. I stopped by each of
the stray apple-trees that came in my way, t