Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922, 1910-08-21

10 the Boys and Girls OF Train
School; Since my last letter 1
have taken several trips TO
aSSS>z points OF interest about which
IHAH1BA you may be interested in hear
49, ing, and the first was TO the
haunts pr Whittier, the Quaker poet, states
man, BCitcian and white-souled man.
nave been rereading his works and his life
history since taking the trip and so am
quite full Of the subject. How he loved
nature, how intimately he knew II! What
home love, true worth and dignity Of labor
characterize his writingsl A farmers son.
proud OF field lore and harvest craft, and
FEELING all their fine possibilities! We
shall never cease to love Snow Bound
Among the Hills" Barefoot Boy" .'In
School Days" Telling the Bees" and
others OF his sweet home sonRss What a
ringing call to duty in THE Man With a
Branded Hand" and Massachusetts to
virginia.! We shall never cease TO love
the pure, true. shy, patriotic singer of them
One may go by trolley or carriage to the
birthplace Of Whittier. II by the former
there will be considerable walking, and,
being pretty good pedestrians we chose the
trolley. Following along the same highway
as mentioned In Snow Bound" TO the out
skirts OF the town, the sweet-scented air.
the skirmishing Of the joyous meadowlark
ana the exceeding peacefulness which
brooded everywhere, made us aware of the
fact that we were not far distant from the
region where the peace-lovinE spirit of
Whittier was. Graded and nourished
On this bright summer day Kenoza lake,
which the poet himself named, shone like
an opal in emerald setting, as 1t reflected
back the glory Of a summer sky. You re-
, member how he wrote It:
Henoxa, Ger no sweeter lake
snail morning break or noon cloud sail
No fairer face than thine shall take
The sunsets golden VEIL
This lake was formerly called Great Pond
but in 1859 the shores were improved for a
park and at its opening Whittier read the
poem which gave it its Indian name Ken
ora, meaning pickerel.
Lake OF the pickerell--let no more
The echoes answer back "Great Pond"
But sweet Kenoza from thy shore
And watching hills beyond.
Let Indian ghosts II such there be
Who ply unseen their shadowy lines,
Call back the ancient name to thee,
AS with the voice Of pines.
The shores we trod as barefoot boys,
The nutted woods we wandered through,
friendship, love and social joys
we consecrate anew.
The hills surrounding the lake present a
most beautiful outlook, through which the
barefoot boy sent his longing vision Tor an
intimacy with the world that lay behind
the mountain enclrcled horizon. The Mer-
rimac which has its source in Lake Win
nipiseogee. the smile Of the great spirit
flows dispassionately to the ocean. The
pecan itself, blue haze in the landscape.
the high mountain peak OF Monadnock in
Now Hampshire and old AsaEnenticus In
Maine point to regions far and far away.
From Kenoza to the humble homestead
we were seeking the road winds through
woods Of maple and birch and over streams
where the white and gold pond lilies
serenely float. until fork in the road
brings to view the quiet nesting place OF
the old brown house The scenes OF most
Of whittiers best known poems-those
which were reminders of his younger days
ARE In the vicinity OF his home; some
within q stones throw OF the house. But
others are q mile or so away in divers
directions.
The house itself, gray and weather
beaten. stands half way up a hillside from
the main road. less travelled thorough
fare branches out from this chief highway
and winding past the cottage, leads farther
up the hill to the site of the little school
house which the poet attended when
boy, The meadow in which Maud Muller
raked the hay" is in the opposite direc
sion. q mile away. The grave OF tn,
Countess. referred to in his poem of tina
name. is also some distance from tn,
house;
Her rest is quiet on the hill.
Beneath the locusts bloom.
But about the homestead there ar
many localities familiar to the clos
reader OF Whittters poems. Along a httl
embankment east Of the house
There are the beehives. ranged in the sun
And down by the brink
OF the brook are her poor flowers wee,
Ger run,
Pansy and daffodi rose and pink
The surroundings are ABOUT az they wer
when ne wrote Telling the Bees" TIL,
pathway which the young lover took &
still TO be seen. and
Just the same as a month before
The house and the trees,
The barns brown gable the vine by tn
door
Nothing changed but the hives OF bees.
, Between a grassy knoll ana the hons
flows the little brook mentioned in "snov
Bound" and The Barefoot Boy"
Laughed the brook for my delight.
whispering at the garden wall
Talked with me from fan 10 fall
The barefoot Boy.
We minded that the shspest ear