nd we thought of
turning back. Then it began to grow light again. A full moon was
climbing up through the maples, inviting further explorations. We
pushed through a dense undergrowth and presently were in a grove of
great white pines. There was a faint sound of running water, and
suddenly we came upon an astonishing brook--wide, swift, and musical.
We had not suspected the existence of such a brook within a dozen
leagues. It was over-arched by tall oaks and elms, beeches, tupelos,
and maples. The moonbeams were dancing in the ripples and on the
floating castles of foam.

"What a place for a study!"

"Yes; a log cabin with a big stone fireplace."

The remarks came idly, but our eyes met and held. Moved by one impulse
we turned from the stream and remarked what bosh people will sometimes
talk, and discussed the coming Italian trip as we moved cautiously
among the briers. But when we came once more to the veteran pines,
they seemed more glamorous than ever in the moonlight, especially one
that stood near a large holly, apart from the rest--a three-prong
lyrical fellow--and his opposite, a burly, thickset archer, bending
his long-bow into a most exquisite curve. The fragrant pine needles
whispered. The brook lent its faint music.

"Quick! We had better get away!"

A forgotten lumber road led us safe from briers up a hill. Out of a
dense oak grove we suddenly emerged upon the more open crest. Our feet
sank deep in moss.

"Look," I said.

Over the heads of the high forest trees below shimmered a mile of
moonlit marshes, and beyond them a gleam--perhaps from some vessel far
at sea, perhaps even from a Provincetown lighthouse.

"Yes, but look!"

At a touch I faced around and beheld, crowning the hill, a stately
company of red cedars, comely and dense and mysterious as the
cypresses of Tivoli, and gloriously drenched in moonlight.

"But what a place for a house!"

"Let's give up Italy," was the answer, "and make this wood our home."

By instinct and training we were two inveterate wanderers. Never had
we possessed so much as a shingle or a spoonful of earth. But the
nest-building enthusiasm had us at last. Our hands met in compact. As
we strolled reluctantly homeward to a ten-o'clock dinner we talked of
road-making, swamps, pneumatic water-systems, the nimbleness of
dollars, and mountains of other difficulties. And we agreed that the
only kind of faith which can easily remove mountains is the faith of
the enthus