Give Us Some
Fresh Baked Buns With Country Butter And Honey, A Dish Of
Delicious Berries Picked By Our Own
Hands fresh from the bushes,
a drink of sparkling ale from Nature's fountain among the cool
fern-clad rocks, and
We shall not lament the fact that we are so
far removed from the public boarding house! Here in place of
soulless melodies issuing from automatic players we have the
heavenly notes of the woodthrush, the clear call of the crested
titmouse, and the wild ringing notes of the cardinal. A
matchless trio, accompanied by the vagrant breezes played upon
the tree-harps, seconded by the singing of distant waterfalls.
With greater reverence one breaks bread out here where spicy
aromatic fragrance drifts by. Here you have become a pilgrim
unawares, for before you are stately tulip poplars and graceful
hemlocks like long sought shrines, both reflecting the Creator.
Our table flowers were the pungent burgamot amid its border of
sweet- scented fern, but it would have been useless to tear them
from their places so near to our table did they grow. Other
travelers pass along the highway and these very ferns and
flowers may be to them "another sacred scripture," as Thoreau
would phrase it, cheering them along the road of life. If one
really loves these mountains with their wealth of ferns and
mosses and floral beauty, few, if any, of these children of the
mountains are disturbed. Out here in Nature's garden we feed not
only the body, but the soul, which hungers and thirsts for the
beautiful - which is not the least of our varied repast.
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