The Press., 1908-02-26
of
 The Woods. :.
By ETMEL HARRINGTON.

oooosoeoeoesooSeseesOOOsSe
 Spring held sway over the spurs of
 the Alleghanics. Around Eliza Jane
 was the breadth of moist earth, the
 pungent Odor of cedar. green shoots
 and wild pink azaleas. Below the call
 of the robin came the purring of the
 mountain stream, a little to the left,
 as 1t crawled over its stony bed, lap
 ping tender mOsses on either side and
 stirring ferns and tiny white violets
 into active growth.
 Eliza Jane, seated on a decaying log,
 her feet deep in dry brown leaves. was
 conscious of all this, though her eyes
 and fingers were busy OGer the writing
 pad resting on her knee. She was writ
 ing verses. Back of her consciousness
 was little silent laugh at the foolish
 ness of such an occupation for her, a
 staId teacher in New England school.
 Ten years had she held the position.
 Never in all that period had she so
 wasted precious hours. It was as If the
 past had been suddenly recalled. A
 certain memorable day spent in the
 Maine woods seemed by reason of her
 present environment but yesterday, whereas in truth it dated further back than the mOnotonous grind of school routine that now enslaved her. The teacher salved her self respect for such frivolous impulse with the reminder that it was vacation time. Work of any sort had been prohibited on pain of nerves. already severely taxed. fail- Ing in the coming winter.
 She had inscribed the title above her effusion in her neat, stiff writing, Language of the Woods and the simple words, faulty enough as poetry, were illumined with sincerity. The language of the woods, unheard for years, now in a different section of the country came clear and insistent as on that other holiday. Again she caught the murmur of hope in the swish of tall naples. drowning the sigh. of re-. gret among dark pines. The bridal white of the dogwood rose against cloudless sky. White, wind swayed anemOnes, great purple vioIets and creeping polOgala, thrusting frail heads high through decaying leaves, all spoke of imperishable youth and love. A couple of lines in her little verses brought faint tinge of color to Eliza Jane's pale cheek:
 Amid lightning and hailstones and rain, Came loves kiss in the pine woods of
 Maine.
 She let them remain because, like an 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 as she might find, she rose and | stretched : her arms with luxurious abandon. It was wonderful to be free from the cramp and lrksome strain of routine. She breathed long and 1eeply of the invigOrating air.
 Il wonder, Elias, do you, too, remem- Der? But of course not; you're a man don'tamgself. except here, where one 'eels as if actually coming alive again liter being petrided. l shall forget | ny dignity when go back. It's only he language of the woods after all."
 Eliza Jane laughed half regretfully. I It was. not unnatural that the place | hould stir sentiment in her. It was f he same: town to which Elias Smith l lad come after their misunderstand- | ng, before they quite lost track of | ach other. Once, writing to her Ousin, she casually inquired for her | i'd friend. But Mrs. Hart answered 1 hat, while she heard of numberless 'miths, she had yet to come across ne called Elias, which, in her. judg- | nent, was mercy, since 1t was an Igly name. Scripture or no Scripture; ence when Eliza Jane accepted the invitation she had done so confident he ran no risk of meeting with her oy lover.
 Catching sight through the tangle of of glowing mass of zaleas, she pushed her way through, agerly filling her hands. From one hrub to another she wandered, some mes higher up the mountain side. ometimes dropping back, but always dding to her blossoms. When she ould carry no more Eliza Jane paused pr breath. The 6aHhssOf scarlet and lossy black of tanager caught her ye, and she held herself breathless } as not to scare him away.
 When the green ,tangle swallowed i'm up she realized her own fatigue nd retraced her steps to And her bas- ct. Search as she would, she could ot come upon 1t. Back and forth she Ialked, now climbing afresh the ocky incline. now descending with reater speed. At times stray bits of Ealea caught on alien shrubs made er realize with disgust that she was 'vering ground already trodden. Her 'atch proved the hour late; dinner { ould be over and her cousin anxious | { her nonappearance. Of small value
 itself, the basket could be easily re- aced, but the little spinster did not ( 'lish leaving her inspiration of the I oods to the mercy of any stranger 1 assing that way. In the end she was I 'mpelled to do so. S Usually self possessed, she stam- Y cred while explaining her misfortune I l her return. Her cousin paused in tting the warmed over dinner before V 1T to express her disapproval. t At your age. Eliza Jane, to take to I ymes. You'd better stick to teach a g. There's some use and more money g that"
 'Should any one find ft" auaraakad D