St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1898-12-17
cbt Story u UaIIey $bat.In.
Where the Ruins OF Desolate Cottage
Rest on the Spot OF Happy Home.
THE Valley Shut-In is secluded from
sight or sound of men, for it is hid

THE Valley Shut-In is secluded from
sight or sound of men, for it is hid
den among wooded hills in the widest,
most inaccessible part of the Arcadian
mountains. It's charm is unknown to
many, and only a score or more of aged
men and women give a fleeting thought
To the homes of their childhood in Val
ley Shut-In. No one ever visits the lone
" spot hut those who till the meagcr
soil, and no one views the ruins of
Desolate Cottage, once Happy Home,
that lie therein.
Flowing through the Valley Shut-in
is shallow river that gurgles plain
lively through n wilderness of forest;
an unknown stretch of river, for it turns
abruptly away from the valley road and
n noisiar smaller tributary two miles
or more away; turns at such an obtuse
angle, hid with trees, that few travellers
notice where it leaves them, and won-
der later where the river turned its
food another way; but we who love the
shallow stream always watch for the
turning, and when we view it our fancy
travels wishfully along that unknown
path, impossible, they say, except in
the driest season, and we wonder
where the turnings, where the deep,
dark pools and glancing shadows,
what the flowers and birds along its
winding way.
But ere long it reaches the Valley
Shut-In and energies again, unsad-
dened by the loneliness there, TO ripple
down through many a forest and
meadow to the greater river and the
sea.
On either side of the river the hills
frown down upon it, and the trees on
either side bend lovingly down to drink
of its food, and so no one on the hill
side sees the stream. only listens to its
drowsv murmur in the summer days,
or louder, wilder song when its wa
ters come plunging down.
On the eastern side of the valley the
trees crowd thickly up the hillside, and
on the other alternate with brown pas
,ure land and rugged lodges
One reaches Valley Shut-In from this
western side through forest where
rare ferns grow and orchids hide and
no one finds them, through wild wood
road that is lined with the flowers that
nature loves. and is carpeted with moss
and sweet-smelling chips, dropped here
from the winter shedding; path trav-
eled oftenest by timid denizens of the
forest and things that creep and crawl
in lowly ways.
We leave the path a moment Just be-
fore it dips steeply down the hill to-
ward Desolate Cottage, once the road
to Happy Home. leave the path and fol-
low a ledge that lies at right angles
with it. and creeping under the under.
brush q little way suddenly find our.
selves standing on the brink of a preci-
pice. where giant trees growing at its
base GO feet below rest their topmost
leafy branches gently on the rocks
above.
Below us are yawning cracks where
great slabs of rocks threaten TO fall
away, and then in places are narrow.
gloomy caves, and an echo that living
here guards all living things and tells
them in many reverberating, oft-re-
peating voices when a human being
or ruder spirit stands in natures home.
Many years ago some fortune hunter
quarried IN the ledge. and the ragged
aperture thus made frowns in its side.
though its frown is almost hidden by
the filny lace of vines that creep low
ingly across lis furrowed cheeks and
the delicate rock ferns that have found |
q foothold in its wrinkles, and close
by fragment yet unbroken by geolo-
gist's hammer fingers to tell the story.
For some strange freak on natures
part filled the lc6ge with streaks Of |
feldspar. in the coarser granite rock.
and in places flung bright bits of mica
in, ard in others crowded it with crys-
tails Of green tourmaline. brittle, yet
tantslixing. a. they protrnde their
pentagonai sides from the lighter |
rocks. and then again vein of smoky
or yellow quartz peers out from the
stone.