The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-05-23
Select Sturp.
IN THE FOLKS WOOD.
From All the Year Round.

AANAA@ ~-~
In the summer of 1876 Fate and state
of feeling which | can only describe para
doxically as one of apathetic restlessness
took me into the depths of the country for
a few weeks.
GA long and Estless boy" like Tenny-
sons hero, like him, too, was "late left
an orphan" though not by any means of
"the squire.
Ny father, scholar and recluse, had
recently closed blameless career by a
death beftting the calm dignity of his life;
leaving me, shy and studious lad, dream
er of dreams, alone in a world where dreams
are at discount, and for whose strife the
rarifed atmosphere of our silent inter-
course had i'll fitted me.
My mother had died too early for me to
distinguish between vague infantile memo
ries of her and my knowledge of what her
smiling portrait painted before her mar
riage-showed her to have been.
If my father had ever formed any plans
for my entering profession, 1 was ignor
ant of his intentions. He never spoke of
them to me at least; and | am inclined to
think that he felt he could leave no better
heritage to his only child than the old
book -crammed house, with its traditions of
learned leisure and scholarly retirement,
which had so amply fulfilled his own ideal.
But under the shy reserve of the long
limbed, awkward ad-upon whom | look
back now, across the years that have passed,
with half-pathetic wonder if he indeed
were I-strange new forces were beginning
to assert their right to live; and after the
first few weeks of bewildered newness sue
ceeding the gentle old scholars death, the
mingled feelings 1 have spoken of inclined
my awakening spirit towards change
change of some sort-and the drowsy air
of the summer among the closely packed
houses (for the father and son had lived
their lonely life in the heart of the largest
city in the world) grew sitting.
In this mood, it CHANGED that an adver-
tisement, printed among others on the out
side sheet of scientific journal, caught my
weary eye; and within half an hour my
answer was written and posted.
The advertisement ran thus:
Comfortable rooms, with board, in
country house in the midst of the most
beautiful scenery in -"
No; will not tell the name of that love
liest of counties, or give even the slightest
clue to help the ravages Of tourists. Let
that spot-where first I truly lived-re-
main sacred in one memory. Even to me
it seems dreamlike now There are mo-
ments when doubt if could find my way
to it; whether it really exists at all, except
in the remembrance of the dream l dreamed
and awoke from-there.
The advertisement went on to speak Of
moderate terms, of the station from which
the house could be reached, and so on; and
ended with a recommendation Of the place
as especially suitable for an artist or a gen
tleman reading for examination.
"Now, 1 was, unfortunately, neither of
these things; but, nevertheless, the idea of
the comfortable rooms" in that country
house took my fancy amazingly, and [
must own-since | was at heart, under my
reserved and shy demeanor, a very fanciful
and imaginative lad-that the name of the
place itself was strong element in the at
traction. "For particulars, apply to Miss
Denison, Folks Field, had ring of the
rMid-Summer Nights Dream" about it
which was very taking; and since | had
lived all my life in Ttania's Court, this
same name proved one of the most power
full clements in my instant determination
to become the summer occupant of the
rooms at Folks Field.
1t was lovely day, late in June, when,
all preliminaries arranged, and with expec-
tation-half apprehensive, half pleasurable
in my breast, I alighted at the station in
the small town-whose name l do not in
tand to tell-and looked for the "trap"
which Miss Denison's letter had informed
me would be in readiness to convey me to
Folks Field, distance of six or more
miles.
There was only one carriage in waiting,
so even my diffidence was equal to asking
its driver if } were right in supposing it to
be intended for my-Mr. Stephen Frs
kine's-conveyan to Folks Field; and,
on an affirmative grunt, | mounted to his
side, and we began leisurely progress
through what-having since travelled over
Lalf the world-I still think scenery as
beautiful, of its kind, as eyes could desire
The strap" was of ancient build; the
horse had seen better-and far younger
days; the man matched both, and had
gruffness all his own; but there was an oc-
casional CLINT of something related to SYM
pathy in his small blue eye, as it peered
from his wrinkled, weather-beaten face, at
what he doubtless thought my unhealthy
pallor and fragility, that gave me courage
to ask him question or two about the
country we passed through.
Presently we turned into road-or
rather track, half turf, half earth--that
wound through wood that seemed to me
the most beautiful sight l had ever seen.
The massed trees; the intense blue of the
June sky; the warm fragrance of the FIR
scented air, even the bumps and jolts of
the carriage as it numbered along the rutty,
grass grown track, are as vivid in my mem
ory today as they were then in actual fact.
A rusty gate came in sight; my driver
dismounted heavily, opened it, and we jogg-