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��■J'Hi: GKANITE MONTHLY.
��and mystified by the motion, and he hastened '•on deck" to take ob- servations. I left him to float down to some rocky islets, where he could live like Robinson Crusoe. In this pas- ture I startled sober-minded cows, and one, who perhaps had been a trifle giddy, judging from the blind-board over her face, tried many ways to dis- cover what strange party had invaded her domain. I think curiosity is an inherent quality in the brute creation, as well as in mankind. Some of these cows concealed their inquisitiveness, much better than others. For these I had great resf>ect. A spotted one was determined to investigate my dogs. Jack answered her rather gruffly, and she made off.
I wandered on by the purling brook, through alders and elders, the latter ladened with berries. A swarm of golden butterflies rose above my head, floated around and settled down on the bushes, only to augment their number and rise again. I concluded they were happy and passed along. Vivid red bunches of " Jack in the Pul- pit" fruit showed where last June Jack could have been found by the bota- nist. Jack is a recluse, and one must know his haunts well to find him with us. At this point I left the brook and walked up a steep hill, through small, hard wood trees, in quest of the place where Capt. Hobbs and his wives and " Master Tate " were buried. I was rewarded for my walk by finding the spot. Rough stones mark their graves.
Remembering a spring which I was wont to visit in my school-days, I looked around among the pines, and soon discovered the rich loliage of the sturdy rock maple. From among the roots of this noble tree a tiny stream of clear, cold water, always runs sum- mer or winter. The thirsty traveler can be refreshed here. Egg-shells, bread crumbs, and pieces of brown paper, scattered on the mossy bank above, told how urban dwellers enjoy a bit of woods life, just over the line of city limit. A cocoanut dipper had been used by many and carefully ])ut back
��for the next comer. The sun was near- ly overhead. My dogs, wearied with their morning's chase, had stretched themselves for a nap. They would wake suddenly to snap at a trouble- some fly and hasten to sleep again.
The murmuring of the brook below called me to resume my march.
I crossed the " turnpike " where a tall narrow culvert penned the waters. This part of the brook is called " Wil- low Brook." 1 found that here the main brook receives a branch. 1 fol- lowed the main one. and it led me through tall pines. On one side is a steep bank, carpeted with shiny pine needles : on the other, is tow meadow- ground. Tall ferns were growing by the brook side, and they seem to lean over to catch a glimpse of their finely formed leaves in the smooth water be- low.
I followed a narrow, deep stream, through the Roberts pasture. This land was granted, in 1702, to John Roberts. That year Roberts and his wife came up from Dover Neck, built a log-house, and started an orchard ; but the Indians proved so troublesome that they left their house and went back to Dover Neck. After a year or two they came back and took up a per- manent abode. Woods grew close around them, and bears walked boldly about. I have heard this story of the old settlers : "The man and his wife each had a pig. The woman petted hers ; but the other one grew uncultivated and piggish in his ways. One night the old folks heard the pigs squeal. The wo- man said, " Get up ; there 's a bear there." The man said, " Lay still ; no there ain't." One more squeal ; and the woman ventured to open the door. In pushed her pig, breathless with run- ning and blind with fear. He ran against the old lady, and toppled her upon the bed. The other pig being wild, kept clear of the house, and bruin captured him. Generation after generation of this family have lived on this land, and one of the name owns it to-day. -A part of the original log- house is used for a woodshed by the
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