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The remains of a battered old bushel basket lay on the wood…pile： bottom
it had none； nor handles； rotundity of side had long since disappeared；
and none but its maker would have known it for a basket。 Tom caught it
up in his flight； and； seizing the first crooked stick that offered；
he slung the dear familiar burden over his shoulder and started off
on a jog…trot。
Heaven； how happy he was！ It was the rosy dawn of an Indian summer day；
a warm jewel of a day； dropped into the bleak world of yesterday without
a hint of beneficent intention； one of those enchanting weather surprises
with which Dame Nature reconciles us to her stern New England rule。
The joy that comes of freedom； and the freedom
that comes of joy； unbent the old man's stiffened joints。
He renewed his youth at every mile。 He ran like a lapwing。
When his feet first struck the sandy soil of the plains； he broke
into old song of the 〃bloom…in' gy…ar…ding〃 and the 〃jolly swain；〃
and in the marvelous mental and spiritual exhilaration
born of the supreme moment he almost grasped that impossible
last note。 His heard could hardly hold its burden of rapture
when he caught the well…known gleam of the white birches。
He turned into the familiar path； boy's blood thumping in old
man's veins。 The past week had been a dreadful dream。
A few steps more and he would be within sight；
within touch of home；home at last！ Nowhat was wrong？
He must have gone beyond it； in his reckless haste！
Strange that he could have forgotten the beloved spot！
Can lover mistake the way to sweetheart's window？
Can child lose the path to mother's knee？
He turned；ran hither and thither； like one distraught。
A nameless dread flitted through his dull mind； chilling his
warm blood； paralyzing the activity of the moment before。
At last； with a sob like that of a frightened child
who flies from some imagined evil lurking in darkness；
he darted back to the white birches and started anew。
This time he trusted to blind instinct； his feet knew the path；
and； left to themselves； they took him through the tangle
of dry bushes straight to his
It had vanished！
Nothing but ashes remained to mark the spot；nothing but ashes！
And these； ere many days； the autumn winds would scatter；
and the leafless branches on which they fell would shake them
off lightly； never dreaming that they hid the soul of a home。
Nothing but ashes！
Poor Tom o' the blueb'ry plains！
…
THE NOONING TREE。
The giant elm stood in the centre of the squire's fair green meadows；
and was known to all the country round about as the 〃Bean ellum。〃
The other trees had seemingly retired to a respectful distance；
as if they were not worthy of closer intimacy； and so it stood alone；
king of the meadow； monarch of the village。
It shot from the ground for a space； straight； strong； and superb；
and then bust into nine splendid branches； each a tree in itself；
all growing symmetrically from the parent trunk； and casting
a grateful shadow under which all the inhabitants of the tiny
village might have gathered。
It was not alone its size； its beauty； its symmetry； its density
of foliage； that made it the glory of the neighborhood； but the low
grown of its branches and the extra…ordinary breadth of its shade。
Passers…by from the adjacent towns were wont to hitch their teams
by the wayside； crawl through the stump fence and walk
across the fields； for a nearer view of its magnificence。
One man； indeed； was known to drive by the tree every day during
the summer； and lift his hat to it； respectfully； each time he passed；
but he was a poet and his intellect was not greatly esteemed
in the village。
The elm was almost as beautiful in one season as in another。
In the spring it rose from moist fields and mellow ploughed ground；
its tiny brown leaf buds bursting with pride at the thought
of the loveliness coiled up inside。 In summer it stood
in the midst of a waving garden of buttercups and whiteweed；
a towering mass of verdant leafage； a shelter from the sun
and a refuge from the storm； a cool； splendid； hospitable dome；
under which the weary farmer might fling himself； and gaze
upward as into the heights and depths of an emerald heaven。
As for the birds； they made it a fashionable summer resort；
the most commodious and attractive in the whole country； with no
limit to the accommodations for those of a gregarious turn of mind；
liking the advantages of select society combined with country air。
In the autumn it held its own； for when the other elms changed
their green to duller tints； the nooning tree put on
a gown of yellow； and stood out against the far background
of sombre pine woods a brilliant mass of gold and brown。
In winter； when there was no longer dun of upturned sod；
nor waving daisy gardens； nor ruddy autumn grasses；
it rose above the dazzling snow crust； lifting its bare；
shapely branches in sober elegance and dignity； and seeming
to say； 〃Do not pity me； I have been； and； please God；
I shall be！〃
Whenever the weather was sufficiently mild； it was used as a 〃nooning〃
tree by all the men at work in the surrounding fields； but it was in haying
time that it became the favorite lunching and 〃bangeing〃 place for Squire
Bean's hands and those of Miss Vilda Cummins； who owned the adjoining farm。
The men congregated under the spreading branches at twelve o' the clock；
and spent the noon hour there； eating and 〃swapping〃 stories； as they
were doing to…day。
Each had a tin pail； and each consumed a quantity of 〃flour food〃
that kept the housewives busy at the cook stove from morning till night。
A glance at Pitt Packard's luncheon； for instance； might suffice
as an illustration； for； as Jabe Slocum said； 〃Pitt took after
both his parents； one et a good deal； 'n' the other a good while。〃
His pail contained four doughnuts； a quarter section of pie；
six buttermilk biscuits； six ginger cookies； a baked cup custard；
and a quart of cold coffee。 This quantity was a trifle unusual；
but every man in the group was lined throughout with pie；
cemented with buttermilk bread； and riveted with doughnuts。
Jabe Slocum and Brad Gibson lay extended slouchingly；
their cowhide boots turned up to the sky； Dave Milliken；
Steve Webster； and the others leaned back against the tree…trunk；
smoking clay pipes； or hugging their knees and chewing blades
of grass reflectively。
One man sat apart from the rest； gloomily puffing rings of smoke
into the air。 After a while he lay down in the grass with his head
buried in his hat； sleeping to all appearances； while the others talked
and laughed； for he had no stories； though he put in an absent…minded word
or two when he was directly addressed。 This was the man from Tennessee；
Matt Henderson； dubbed 〃Dixie〃 for short。 He was a giant fellow；
a 〃great gormin' critter；〃 Samantha Ann Milliken called him；
but if he had held up his head and straightened his broad shoulders；
he would have been thought a man of splendid presence。
He seemed a being from another sphere instead of from another
section of the country。 It was not alone the olive tint of the skin；
the mass of wavy dark hair tossed back from a high forehead；
the sombre eyes； and the sad mouth；a mouth that had never grown
into laughing curves through telling Yankee jokes；it was not these
that gave him what the boys called a 〃kind of a downcasted look。〃
The man from Tennessee had something more than a melancholy temperament；
he had； or physiognomy was a lie； a sorrow tugging at his heart。
〃I'm goin' to doze a spell；〃 drawled Jabe Slocum； pulling his
straw hat over his eyes。 〃I've got to renew my strength like
the eagle's； 'f I'm goin' to walk to the circus this afternoon。
Wake me up； boys； when you think I'd ought to sling that scythe
some more； for if I hev it on my mind I can't git a wink o' sleep。〃
This was apparently a witticism； at any rate； it elicited
roars of laughter。
〃It's one of Jabe's useless days； he takes 'em from his
great…aunt Lyddy；〃 said David Milliken。
〃You jest dry up； Dave。 Ef it took me as long to git
to workin' as it did you to git a wife； I bate this hay wouldn't
git mowed down to crack o' doom。 Gorry！ ain't this a tree！
I tell you； the sun 'n' the airth； the dew 'n' the showers；
'n' the Lord God o' creation jest took holt 'n' worked together
on this tree； 'n' no mistake！〃
〃You're right； Jabe。〃 （This from Steve Webster； who was absently
cutting a _D_ in the bark。 He was always cutting _D_'s these days。）
〃This ellum can't be beat in the State o' Maine； nor no other state。
My brother that lives in California says that the big redwoods；
big as they air； don't throw no sech shade； nor ain't so han'some；
'specially in the fall o' the year； as our State o' Maine trees；
'assiduous trees；' he called 'em。〃
〃_Assidyus_ trees？ Why don't you talk United Stat