Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1907-12-14
Language of
The Woods.
BY ETHEL HARRINGTON.



the Alieghanics. Around Eliza Jane
was the breadth Of moist earth, the
pungcnt odor of cedar. green shoots
and wild pink azalcaS. Below the call
or tro roIi,, ANNA tho ,,,r,,nc, Of +bo
VI NV ''"''' N''''' INV VI WV
''''"'' '''i' It ''''' " 'ne t''''
"S II craN'u over I'S STONY peu' nap
ping tender MOSES on either side ana
stirring ferns and tiny white violcts
into active growth
Eliza Jane. seated on n decaying log.
her feet deem in dry brown Ieoves was
conscious of all tlIis thourb her ewes
md fnrers Nnrn husy ovnr. the writing
mad resting ON her knre She WINS writ.
in- verses. Back of her consciousness
WAS n LITTLE stIrnt Inurh mt tho foolish.
ness of such nm occuuation for bcr n
stofJ tnorhrr in 81 Now ENGLAND school
Ten wears had she held the position
Never in aII that period had she so
wasted prccious hours If WAS rs If tho
past had been suddenly recalled. A
certain memorable day spent i'm the
Maine woods seemed bv reason of her
present environment but Yesterday.
whcrens in truth If dated further hack
than the monotouous grind of school
routine that now ensIovcd her The
Teacher sDlycd her self rrsprct for such
a frivolous impuIsc with the reminder
that it was vacation time. Work of
any sort had been prohibited on pain
of nerves. already severely taxed fail.
ino in the coming winter
She had inscribed thc title above her
rGusfon in her neat. stiff writing,
"I.an.,uage of the Woods" and the
simple words. faulty enough rs poetry.
were illumiued with sincerity The
language of the woods unhcord for
wears. now in II different section of the
country came clear and inSistcnt AS on
that other holiday. Again she caught
the murmur of hone in the swish of
tall NAPLES drowning the sigh of re-
grrt among dark pinrs The bridal
white of the dngwnoI rose against
rloudless sky. White, wind swaved
anrmones. great purple violets and
creeping pologala. thrustinr frail
heads high through lrcavin- leaves.
all spoke of impcrishahIc youth and
love. A couplc of lines in her LITTLE
verses brought Il faint tfnyc of color TO
Eliza James pale cheek:
Amid lightning. and hoir,.o,,s and ro,,
Came loves kiss in the pine woods of
Maine.
She let them remain because, like
IN echo of the language of which she
wrote, they seemed to belong here.
Presently the rhymes were completed,
and, dropping both pad and pencil into
the basket that she had brought to
carry home such mountain treasures
a@ she might find. she rose and
stretched her arms with luxurious
abandon. 1t was wonderful to be free
from the cramp and irkSome strain
of routine. She breathed long and
Nccply of the invigorating air.
Il wonder. Elias, do YOU. too. remem-
bcr? But of course not; you're man
| don't myself, except here where one
feels as If actually coming alive again
after being petritied shall forget
my dignity when go back It's only
the language of the woods after all"
Eliza Jane laughed half regretfuly.
1t was not unnatural that the place
should stir sentiment in her 1t was
the same town to which Elias Smith
had come after their misunderstood.
in~, before they quite lost track of
each other Once writing to her
cousin, she casually inquired for her
Old friend. But Mrs. Hart answered