"After this we went there a great many times, for we were fond of rambling in the woods, and almost everything which is usually found on hilltop or valley, seemed to grow there. There were May flowers, violets and anemonies, in spring time; box, whortle, and black berries, in summer, and acorns and walnuts in autumn.
"One fourth of July, when soldiers were marching about the streets—boys were firing crackers—dogs barking, and every body seemed just ready to run crazy, Alfred, and Charlie, who was but a 'wee bit' of a boy, then, with sister Una and myself, determined to make our escape from this scene of confusion. We took a little basket of provision, with a hatchet and a jug of water, and started for our favorite hollow. Often, in the long winter evenings, we brothers and sisters would sit round the fire, and tell what we would do when we grew up to be men and women. But there was one thing which we always agreed upon, and it was this: that we would all live together, in a little cottage in the woods, where we could have plenty of room to move about in, and do just as we pleased. Now we thought we had dreamed of this long enough and we determined to have a little of the reality; so, as soon as we reached the hollow, we began to build a bower with the branches which we cut from the trees with our hatchet. We worked away very busily, for a long time, toiling and sweating, yet all the time feeling never so happy. Oh, I do wish that all you children, and a great many more beside, could have been there with us, to see what a nice, pretty place it was, when it was finished. Hiram of Tyre, in his stately palace of cedar, fir, and algum wood, could not have felt prouder or happier than we did, in our little sylvan bower.
"We spread a shawl on the ground, and laid our provisions upon it. Here we sat and sung, and told stories, till we saw a great dark shadow coming down the hill-side; and what do you suppose it was, Thanny?" "Well I don't know, unless it was a great black bear, coming down to get some of his grass for supper."
"Oh fie! No. What do you think it was, Nelly?"
"Wasn't it old Pan and Sylvanus, who were astonished to hear such a noise in their woods?"
"No, you haven't got it right either. What do you say, Janie?"
"Well, I guess it was the shadows of evening, coming down the hill-side."
"That's it—and we were very much surprised to find it so, for the time had passed very quickly and pleasantly. We gathered up our things, and started for home. But first we stopped under the old acorn-tree, and sung 'a song to the oak, the brave old oak.' We didn't know the right tune, and so we sung it to the air of 'there is nae luck about the house.' It wasn't the music we cared so much about, as the beautiful words, they were so pretty and appropriate.
"Well, we did not go into the woods much, after this, for we had a great many other things to take up our minds. Charlie and I went to school, and father needed Alfred to help him all the time.
"I have told you how we found the hollow and how much we enjoyed ourselves there; now I will tell you what became of it."
"What became of it! Why! did it catch afire and burn up?"
"No."
"Did it blow away in a strong north wind?"
"No."
"Did it get filled up with dust and dry leaves, or did you forget the way there, and never find it again? What did become of it?"
"Well, let me tell you. It was one of those beautiful spring days—when we feel that we cannot possibly stay at home, and our feet will run away with us, in spite of ourselves—that the old spirit and desire for rambling came over us once more, and away we started for the woods. 'Which way will you go?' said Alfred as we stopped at a place where two roads led in different directions. 'Acorn Hollow,' was the answer of all; and accordingly we went that way. But oh, wonder of wonders! How we stood by the once loved spot, and stared at each other, and rubbed our eyes, and looked again and again. Where were the beautiful trees that grew so closely side by side, intermingling their foliage, and locking their arms together like loving brothers and sisters? Where was the 'brave old oak,' that had stood there with his broad green arms outstretched, and shook his myriad leaves whenever we came, as if he loved us children, and welcomed us to a resting-place in his shadow. And where was the soft green carpet of moss and tender grass that was spread out so beautifully at the bottom of the hollow? It was all changed, as if the breath of an evil spirit had blown upon it. 'Isn't it too bad!' we all exclaimed; and after we had given expression to our feelings by these few words, we proceeded to a closer examination. All the trees along the hill-side had been cut down, and little piles of wood were put up, to carry away. The May flowers were all dried up in the sun, and the ground pine and bear's grass were as sere and yellow as the autumn leaves. Down in the bottom of the hollow, the turf had been cut up and carried off, and there lay the bones of an old horse bleaching in the sun. There was only a little stump left of the acorn tree, with a few withered branches. 'Isn't it a sin, and a shame!' said Alfred, indignantly. 'I never want to come here again,' murmured Charlie; and I sat down on the stump and cried. If all the world had been looking at me I couldn't have helped it.
"Then I thought how strangely everything was changing around me. Nothing appeared the same to me, save the sun and stars and the broad blue sea. Father and mother, brothers and sisters, and the great world itself, were all changing. I too was changed. Time and study, with daily trial, were making me an altogether different being from what I had been, and I knew that the finger of the Almighty was writing lessons upon my heart, which I could never forget; no, not through all eternity. I wept; and then a truth—a great and a good one—rose in my heart, like the morning star, for I knew, at that moment, that all these changes were but the lessons which the angel teachers are giving us, to fit us for higher duties in the world to come. The memory of that beautiful spot is as fresh and fair in my heart as ever, and the lesson which I learned there has had a blessed influence upon my life; for now, when I feel sad and disheartened, I strive to keep my eye fixed on the great point to which we all tend, forgetting the little sorrows that lie between. And I hear the calm sweet voice of him who died on Calvary, saying, 'fear not; I am thy friend and brother. I too have dwelt in the flesh and know its conflicts and trials; trust in me, for I am the same, yesterday, to-day, and forever.'
"Hark! don't I hear the clock strike?—eight, nine, ten. O, naughty children! when I only came in here to stop ten minutes; and now you have kept me here till ten o'clock! Only think how dark it is, and what a long way over to the green. I guess you will be sorry, if you should hear, in the morning, that I had walked off the bridge into the mill-brook, or fallen into the cistern on the Green."
"Oh aunt Lissa! as if there wasn't any fence to the bridge, and a cover on the cistern, with a stone on it. You needn't try to frighten us in that way."
"Well then, let me go, lest grandmother should feel frightened; but first you must pay me for telling you a story."
"Well, how much do you ask?"
"Oh, not much; only a kiss from each of you."
"That you may have and welcome, and as many as you please."
"Good night."