unlight, and grow pure in that shadowless atmosphere.
The sharp cedar tops on Shahweetah were so many illuminated
points, and further down the river the sunlight caught just
the deep bend of the water in the bay; the rest was under
shadow of the western hills. All was under a still and hush, --
nothing sounded or moved but here and there a cricket; the
tide was near flood and crept up noiselessly; the wind blew
somewhere else, but not in October. Softly the sun went down
and the shadows stole up.

Elizabeth stood with her hands pressed upon her breast,
drinking in all the sights and sounds, and many of their soft
whisperings that only the spirit catches; when her ear was
caught by very dissimilar and discordant notes behind her, --
the screaming of discomposed chickens and the grating of Mr.
Underhill's boots on the gravel.

"Here's chickens for ye," said the farmer, who held the legs
of two pair in his single hand, the heads of the same
depending and screaming in company, -- "and here's three dozen
of fresh eggs -- if you want more you can send for 'em. Will
you take these along in the Merry-go-round?"

"If you please -- there is no other way," said Elizabeth. "Wait
-- let me get in first, Mr. Underhill -- Are they tied so they
can't get loose?"

"La! yes," said the old man putting them into the bow of the
boat, -- "they can't do nothin'! I'll engage they won't hurt
ye. Do you good, if you eat 'em right. Good bye! -- it's pretty
nigh slack water, I guess -- you'll go home easy. Come again! --
and you shall have some more fowls to take home with ye!" --

Elizabeth bowed her acknowledgments, and pulled away towards
home, over the bright water, wondering again very much at
herself and her chickens. The dark barrier of the western
hills rose up now before her, darkening and growing more
distant -- as she went all the way over the river home.
Elizabeth admired them and admired at herself by turns.

Near the landing, however, the boat paused again, and one oar
splashed discontentedly in the water and then lay still, while
the face of its owner betrayed a struggle of some sort going
on. The displeased brow, and the firm-set lips, said
respectively, 'I would not,' and 'I must;' and it was five
minutes good before the brow cleared up and the lips unbent to
their usual full free outline; and the oars were in play once
more, and the Merry-go-round brought in and made fast.

"Well, Miss 'Lizabeth!" said Clam who met he