And there was the
loon upon the lake gabbling his welcome to the approaching winter. The
rain, too, had filled the brooks, and their waters were gurgling down
deep, shadowy dells, mingling their touching music with the sad, sighing
wind. There were pleasant memories entwined in that departing summer;
and it now seemed as if all nature was joining in a requiem to its
fading beauties.
The settlers had gathered their winter fruit, and the cider-presses had
finished their work for the season. Squashes were hung up in the cellar,
the corn was shucked and in the bins, and heaps of ripe, lusty pumpkins
stood in the fields. In the houses fresh flitches of bacon hung by the
fireside, while festoons of dried apples decorated the beams overhead.
There, too, were the young nut-gatherers, coming home of an evening with
their well-filled satchels. There was to be peace and plenty at the
settlers' fireside this winter, for an all-wise Providence had so
ordained it in an abundant harvest.
It was a custom with Hanz Toodleburg, as it was also with many other of
the settlers, to entertain his friends and neighbors with a merry-making
when the harvest was gathered.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149