Driven Back to Eden | Page 7

and
no epicure ever enjoyed the gamy flavor as we did. But when we came
to examine the books, their plates exhibiting almost every phase of
country work and production, we felt like a long vista leading toward
our unknown home was opening before us, illumined by alluring
pictures. To Winnie was given a book on poultry, and the cuts
representing the various birds were even more to her taste than cuts
from the fowls themselves at a Christmas dinner. The Nimrod instincts
of the race were awakened in Merton, and I soon found that he had set
his heart on a book that gave an account of game, fish, birds, and
mammals. It was a natural and wholesome longing. I myself had felt it
keenly when a boy. Such country sport would bring sturdiness to his
limbs and the right kind of color into his face.
"All right, Merton," I said: "you shall have the book and a breech-
loading shot-gun also. As for fishing-tackle, you can get along with a
pole cut from the woods until you have earned money enough yourself
to buy what you need."
The boy was almost overwhelmed. He came to me, and took my hand
in both his own.
"O papa," he faltered, and his eyes were moist, "did you say a gun?"
"Yes, a breech-loading shot-gun on one condition--that you'll not
smoke till after you are twenty-one. A growing boy can't smoke in
safety."
He gave my hand a quick, strong pressure, and was immediately at the
farther end of the store, blowing his nose suspiciously. I chuckled to
myself: "I want no better promise. A gun will cure him of cigarettes
better than a tract would."

Mousie was quiet, as usual; but there was again a faint color in her
cheeks, a soft lustre in her eyes. I kept near my invalid child most of
the time, for fear that she would go beyond her strength. I made her sit
by a table, and brought the books that would interest her most. Her
sweet, thin face was a study, and I felt that she was already enjoying
the healing caresses of Mother Nature. When we started homeward she
carried a book about flowers next to her heart.
Bobsey taxed his mother's patience and agility, for he seemed all over
the store at the same moment, and wanted everything in it, being sure
that fifteen dollars would buy all and leave a handsome margin; but at
last he was content with a book illustrated from beginning to end with
pigs.
What pleased me most was to see how my wife enjoyed our little
outing. Wrapped up in the children, she reflected their joy in her face,
and looked almost girlish in her happiness. I whispered in her ear,
"Your present shall be the home itself, for I shall have the deed made
out in your name, and then you can turn me out-of-doors as often as
you please."
"Which will be every pleasant day after breakfast," she said, laughing.
"You know you are very safe in giving things to me."
"Yes, Winifred," I replied, pressing her hand on the sly; "I have been
finding that out ever since I gave myself to you."
I bought Henderson's "Gardening for Profit" and some other practical
books. I also subscribed for a journal devoted to rural interests and
giving simple directions for the work of each month. At last we
returned. Never did a jollier little procession march up Broadway.
People were going to the opera and evening companies, and carriages
rolled by, filled with elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen; but my
wife remarked, "None of those people are so happy as we are, trudging
in this roundabout way to our country home."
Her words suggested our course of action during the months which
must intervene before it would be safe or wise for us to leave the city.

Our thoughts, words, and actions were all a roundabout means to our
cherished end, and yet the most direct way that we could take under the
circumstances. Field and garden were covered with snow, the ground
was granite-like from frost, and winter's cold breath chilled our
impatience to be gone; but so far as possible we lived in a country
atmosphere, and amused ourselves by trying to conform to country
ways in a city flat. Even Winnie declared she heard the cocks crowing
at dawn, while Bobsey had a different kind of grunt or squeal for every
pig in his book.

CHAPTER V
A COUNTRY CHRISTMAS IN A CITY FLAT
On Christmas morning we all brought out our purchases and arranged
them on a table. Merton was almost wild when he found a bright
single-barrelled gun with accoutrements standing in the corner. Even
Mousie exclaimed with delight