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do-it-yourself-wood-fired-hot-tub-data At the foot of the mountain there was a railroad, and the children watched the trains whiz by. He lived in Windsor with his merry wives, writing tragedies, comedies and errors. As do it yourself wood fired hot tub data who has a gas water heater and all other gas appliances are electronically ignited, I plan to do my own investigations. In a democracy it's your vote that counts; in feudalism, it's your Count that votes. See 5 Homes. That mineral pool looks amazing! The layout is fabulous for a young family with ample room to grow.

Head to the lower level to stream your favorite shows in your home theatre. Wonderful first floor seasonal April to November studio style condo in West Dennis. Enjoy the pool , right out the sliders or choose to visit West Dennis beaches in less than a couple miles away. Close proximity to Bass River Park with a serene setting for kayaking and enjoying the beautiful views of Bass river. The low condo fees include pool, utilities, rubbish removal, exterior maintenance , laundry on site and recreation room.

Rentals and pets allowed. Original owners have taken immaculate care with continued updates with this stunning 4-bedroom, 2 full bath Cape.

From the moment you walk in the door you will be swept away by the beautiful fireplace and gleaming hardwood floors that open the Dining Area to the Kitchen that sports Quartz counters. This sun-drenched home that is nestled on nearly a half-acre is set on a serene setting in a private and secluded neighborhood with a fenced yard and above ground pool. Only some of the recent updates include a new furnace, new Anderson Series Windows and storm doors, Septic. This rambling ranch features multiple entertaining areas inside and out including your own private bar, brick patio, and beamed great room.

The large bedrooms offer plenty of closet space, as does the full length basement for storage. The property is adorned with mature plantings and waiting for the next owner to pick their own style for the exterior of the house and cultivate th. To Be Built!

This 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom Cape with open floor plan might be exactly what you have been looking for. This beautiful home located in the desirable Norse Pines neighborhood with have stunning details that set it apart.

First floor Master, white kitchen with stone countertops, stainless steel appliances, hardwood floors and fireplaced living room. Upstairs are two bedrooms, full bathroom and bonus room. Spacious two bedroom with lots of extras. Home has a passing title V for a three bedroom and could easily be converted back to accommodate the whole family! Home features an open concept first floor with double size living room, spacious dining and kitchen, large master with double closets, oversize guest room and partially finished basement.

Outside enjoy the private fenced yard from your oversize screen porch, or take on projects of any size in the incredible barn garage and workshop. So much potential here! Don't miss on this one! This 3 bedroom, 3 bath residence has had numerous upgrades. Located on Packet Landing which in the early years on Cape Cod was a landing for packet ships. The first floor offers multi social spaces for entertaining large groups. A recently added three season room will surely be the focal point for social gatherings.

First floor primary in-suite bedroom, two large bedrooms on the second floor. Laundries on both main floor and lower level. A detached over-sized 2 car garage w.

Relax on your front porch with a cup of coffee and enjoy tranquil water views of Great Pond just 3 houses down. The neighborhood's direct access to Great Pond provides the ideal setting for kayaking, clamming or paddle-boarding. Grab your beach chair and sunscreen and stroll to the Acapesket Beach Association's private sandy beach.

Once home, you can grill dinner on the deck in the privacy of your backyard. This home offers an open concept design with multiple living spaces making it perfect for entertaining and working remotely. The upd. This lovingly cared for ranch home checks all the boxes! Central air, hardwood floors, gas heat, at end of a cul de sac, level back yard, and tucked away yet close to everything.

The updated electrical even has power in the shed for a great workshop. With it's great space in the basement, there's room for a home office, gym or playroom. Best of all it is a quick drive to Craigville or Sea Street Beach. Oh Boy!! West Dennis close to the Beach!

They don't come up that often so don't wait. Everyone loves being close to the Beach and this two bedroom ranch is ready willing and able. New Septic System is coming. It's the epitome of a Cape House with Hardwood floors and Pine Paneling and a fireplace for cozy fall evenings.

Eat in Kitchen and family room. Around the corner to the Bass River with 2 Public landings and 2 Marinas within minutes. This neighborhood has a low amount of traffic because it is surrounded by water on 3 sides making it great for walking and being out and about the yard. Ocean views, but ONLY if you. House is located in our Greensward Village which is within the seaside resort of New Seabury. First level has kitchen with breakfast nook with sliders to a deck. In addition there is a full bath and bedroom.

Lower lever offers two guest bedrooms, full bath, plus a family room with sliders leading to a patio and a fire pit. Best of all th. Private backyard oasis with a large upper deck, stone patio and composite deck around the pool for summer entertaining. Two first floor guestrooms with a full bath are perfect for summer visitors. The second floor features a generous master suite, exquisite. Situated down a long driveway for maximum privacy is this Custom Cape designed with open living in mind.

The open living areas invite participation from family and friends in offering non solicited advice on your famous chili recipe or second guessing Coach Belichick's play calling. Your home will be the preferred location for all sports spectaculars as well as holiday get togethers.

Cummaquid Heights offers a delightful walking area as well as a convenient location to medical facilities and shopping. Plus Cummaquid Golf Club is just a par five away. It's a life stye. This impeccable ranch is ready to go! A sun-filled open floor plan with 3 spacious bedrooms and 3 baths, gleaming hardwood floors, custom windows, cathedral ceilings, a large eat-in kitchen, formal dining room, family room with new gas insert FP, and large deck overlooking private yard.

Pamper yourself in the luxurious master en suite with plenty of closet space, a beautiful wood cathedral ceiling, and a NEW private bath that is absolutely amazing!

Some of the exciting features include a finished den in the basement, cedar closet, Do It Yourself Wood Projects For Beginners Data 3 yr old high-efficiency heating system, newer gas fireplace, central AC and central vac, whole house water filtration system, lifetime gutters, new cobblestone w. Enter foyer, to the right heads toward the large, private master bedroom suite with walk-in closet; left takes you into the large country eat-in kitchen supplied with gas cooking stove stainless fridge, see-through gas log in kitchen and living room.

You'll love the double cabinet space! Off the kitchen is mud room, laundry room with utility sink, half bath and exit to two car garage with unique space over the garage for storage or other possibilities. Back to the foyer, straight ahead through th.

Short bike ride to the Mayflower, Bayview, Chapin beaches! Spacious ranch style cape home. Beautifully renovated with open floor concepts, lower level suite for hosting guests, laundry up and down, 3! Large 2 car garage. Oversized deck on almost an acre of backyard perfect for summer get togethers around the fire-pit, paver patio, she shed with a reading nook. Fire placed living room and plenty of room to spread out.

North of 6A. Tucked away in the heart of Chatham, this fabulous, free standing condo offers 2 bedrooms and 2 baths with over square feet of living space and many unique options! The Post and Beam construction embraces an open floor plan featuring amazing natural light, gleaming wood floors, high ceilings, wrap around porch, and more.

Convenient to shopping, swimming, biking, baseball games, eateries. Sunday March 21 from Closing to be after June 1, Beautiful, single family home offers 3 bedrooms and 1 full bathroom, along with a spacious, fenced in back yard.

Located within a 10 minute drive from its nearest beach and close to all amenities. Looking for a great neighborhood with a large level fenced rear yard , 48 acres?

This sq ft Saltbox is perfect! French doors lead to an additional family room or 1st floor bedroom. Full basement for storage or finishing. Home needs interior painting and some cosmetics but worth the effort at this price!! This wide open layout with high ceilings and walls of windows has been a big hit! Additional first floor room can be used as an office, den, formal dining room or sitting room. This home has everything buyers are looking for: new, open floor plan, contemporary, walls of glass overlooking the golf course, first floor living including fireplaced master suite with 4 en-suite bedrooms upst.

Closing must be after June 1 This adorable home might do the trick! A bright sun-filled interior adds to the warmth of the home and tree top views from the second floor give an added bonus. The first floor includes an eat-in kitchen, a living room, spacious den, first floor bedroom, and a full bath.

The second floor has 2 very well proportioned bedrooms and a full bath. Don't miss the ''Live Edge'' breakfast bar. The second floor has 3 more bedrooms and full bath. On demand hot water, gas heat and central air complete the package. Outside rinse off in the outdoor shower and relax on the back deck after a long beach day. Multiple dwellings with endless possibilities!

On the corner of State Highway and Eastwind Dr a dead end neighborhood settled on just under an acre of flat grassy land. The main house has 4 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms, while the cottage is year round with 2 beds 1 bath. Close to everything Eastham and Orleans has to offer and tucked behind a large private fence. Owner occupied with more photos to come! Fabulous Cape built in offers 3 bedrooms and 3 full bathrooms and plenty of space for the whole family with a versatile layout includes extra space for remote learning or a home office and a bonus room in the basement.

The inviting backyard is backed by conservation land, offering tons of privacy and mature plantings. Includes an 1 car oversized garage and gazebo. This hidden jewel off the beaten path has enjoyed a tremendous location in the heart of Chatham since The Carriage House is packed with features such as exposed brickwork and wooden beams, every detail is thought of here! Contributed by Nicky from That Anxious Traveller. Idaho Springs is a perfect day-trip from Denver. Oh, and it also happens to be in the shadow of one of the highest summits of the Rocky Mountains!

Be sure to enjoy the filling breakfast, and keep an eye out for bighorn sheep wandering nearby. For Airbnbs in Idaho Springs you should check out this Mountain Adventure Base Camp with a private deck and views into the wild, it is an easy minute walk to the restaurants and shops in the center of Idaho Springs and is also close to the Indian Hot Springs.

It is a little out the center but the peace n the wild is totally worth the short walk to amenities. This incredible national park is one of the most beautiful in the United States, which is saying something because this country is filled with stunning national parks.

In just one day trip from Boulder to Rocky Mountain National Park, I was treated to an abundance of awe-inspiring natural wonders: from big-horn sheep and elk to a sunny valley dotted with glistening lakes, to a blizzard-topped mountain peak — all just in a few hours of casually driving around. We literally just drove around, and it was incredible. Spending the day driving around and gawking at the majesty of this stunning park is a fantastic way to explore!

With a modern Western theme and tons of beautiful natural light, the interior of the hotel is beautiful — and some rooms even feature fireplaces and riverfront views.

The Airbnbs in Estes Park are a roll call of dream mountain cabins to share with friends. We are particularly obsessed with this riverside cabin with a hot tub, 3 bedrooms and just a short walk to downtown Estes Park. It is literally steps from the Big Thompson River so you feel like you are remote but still super close to the action. The hot tub and riverfront location is perfect for grilling up dinner and watching the stars at night.

Contributed by Marissa from Darling Escapes. Denver has charm and quirk hidden in the streets lined with skyscrapers.

Check out some of the places to eat in Denver that need to be on your list:. The Ramble Hotel is an absolutely stunning hotel, expertly decorated with gorgeous modern touches — think floor to ceiling windows and jet black cabinets, dotted with verdant green plants. I want to live here. Other than being jaw-droppingly stunning, the hotel is affordable and conveniently located just a mile from Union Station in the heart of downtown Denver!

As a decent-sized city Denver has a huge selection of Airbnbs , so there is something to suit every taste. Prepare to be charmed as every detail has been thought about! It is nestled between Welton Street and hip RiNo, with its craft breweries and restaurants. Are you ready to put your hair in dreadlocks, throw your snowboard in your Jeep, and head to one of these awesome weekend getaways in Colorado?

Note: dreadlocks are neither required nor encouraged for anyone visiting Colorado. Which of the rad destinations on our list are you most eager to explore?

Need a few more suggestions? Here are a few of our other posts about Colorado and its neighbors to help you plan your next trip to the Centennial State! I had been here several times in my whole life to explore the beauty of this charming place and every time had huge fun there. Beautiful photos! I has no idea there was this much to do in Colorado! And all I did was go snowboarding!! Thanks for sharing. My friend just moved to Denver, and I will definitely be visiting soon. Looks so beautiful there.

When I first saw the photo of Vail, I could have easily mistaken for a Swiss alpine village! What a gorgeous place to visit. This is a great round up of getaways in Colorado. Breckenridge looks like a winter wonderland, too! Thanks for sharing! This is a killer guide! I wish I could drop everything and book a flight to Denver now.

Wish I had this guide when I was there last year! Wow this is amazing! I spent a little over a week in Denver on a whim in November, and I only got to hit up a couple of these places! Definitely saving this for my next trip over! Gorgeous photos! That mineral pool looks amazing! Had no idea the largest mineral pool was in the States! Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. Psst: Please be sure to follow all local regulations, social distance, and wear a mask to keep yourself and others safe. Also, ads are how we pay our bills and keep our blog free for you to enjoy! We also use affiliate links. If you make a purchase through them, we may receive a small commission for which we are deeply grateful at no cost to you. When she came, everything about me breathed of love and joy and was full of meaning.

She has never since let pass an opportunity to point out the beauty that is in everything, nor has she ceased trying in thought and action and example to make my life sweet and useful. It was my teacher's genius, her quick sympathy, her loving tact which made the first years of my education so beautiful.

It was because she seized the right moment to impart knowledge that made it so pleasant and acceptable to me. She realized that a child's mind is like a shallow brook which ripples and dances merrily over the stony course of its education and reflects here a flower, there a bush, yonder a fleecy cloud; and she attempted to guide my mind on its way, knowing that like a brook it should be fed by mountain streams and hidden springs, until it broadened out into a deep river, capable of reflecting in its placid surface, billowy hills, the luminous shadows of trees and the blue heavens, as well as the sweet face of a little flower.

Any teacher can take a child to the classroom, but not every teacher can make him learn. He will not work joyously unless he feels that liberty is his, whether he is busy or at rest; he must feel the flush of victory and the heart-sinking of disappointment before he takes with a will the tasks distasteful to him and resolves to dance his way bravely through a dull routine of textbooks.

My teacher is so near to me that I scarcely think of myself apart from her. How much of my delight in all beautiful things is innate, and how much is due to her influence, I can never tell.

I feel that her being is inseparable from my own, and that the footsteps of my life are in hers. All the best of me belongs to her—there is not a talent, or an aspiration or a joy in me that has not been awakened by her loving touch. Every one in the family prepared surprises for me, but what pleased me most, Miss Sullivan and I prepared surprises for everybody else. The mystery that surrounded the gifts was my greatest delight and amusement.

My friends did all they could to excite my curiosity by hints and half-spelled sentences which they pretended to break off in the nick of time.

Miss Sullivan and I kept up a game of guessing which taught me more about the use of language than any set of lessons could have done. Every evening, seated round a glowing wood fire, we played our guessing game, which grew more and more exciting as Christmas approached.

On Christmas Eve the Tuscumbia schoolchildren had their tree, to which they invited me. In the centre of the schoolroom stood a beautiful tree ablaze and shimmering in the soft light, its branches loaded with strange, wonderful fruit. It was a moment of supreme happiness.

I danced and capered around the tree in an ecstasy. When I learned that there was a gift for each child, I was delighted, and the kind people who had prepared the tree permitted me to hand the presents to the children. In the pleasure of doing this, I did not stop to look at my own gifts; but when I was ready for them, my impatience for the real Christmas to begin almost got beyond control. I knew the gifts I already had were not those of which friends had thrown out such tantalizing hints, and my teacher said the presents I was to have would be even nicer than these.

I was persuaded, however, to content myself with the gifts from the tree and leave the others until morning. That night, after I had hung my stocking, I lay awake a long time, pretending to be asleep and keeping alert to see what Santa Claus would do when he came. At last I fell asleep with a new doll and a white bear in my arms.

Next morning it was I who waked the whole family with my first "Merry Christmas! But when my teacher presented me with a canary, my cup of happiness overflowed. Little Tim was so tame that he would hop on my finger and eat candied cherries out of my hand. Miss Sullivan taught me to take all the care of my new pet. Every morning after breakfast I prepared his bath, made his cage clean and sweet, filled his cups with fresh seed and water from the well-house, and hung a spray of chickweed in his swing.

One morning I left the cage on the window-seat while I went to fetch water for his bath. When I returned I felt a big cat brush past me as I opened the door. At first I did not realize what had happened; but when I put my hand in the cage and Tim's pretty wings did not meet my touch or his small pointed claws take hold of my finger, I knew that I should never see my sweet little singer again. As if it were yesterday I remember the preparations, the departure with my teacher and my mother, the journey, and finally the arrival in Boston.

How different this journey was from the one I had made to Baltimore two years before! I was no longer a restless, excitable little creature, requiring the attention of everybody on the train to keep me amused. I sat quietly beside Miss Sullivan, taking in with eager interest all that she told me about what she saw out of the car window: the beautiful Tennessee River, the great cotton-fields, the hills and woods, and the crowds of laughing negroes at the stations, who waved to the people on the train and brought delicious candy and popcorn balls through the car.

On the seat opposite me sat my big rag doll, Nancy, in a new gingham dress and a beruffled sunbonnet, looking at me out of two bead eyes. Sometimes, when I was not absorbed in Miss Sullivan's descriptions, I remembered Nancy's existence and took her up in my arms, but I generally calmed my conscience by making myself believe that she was asleep.

As I shall not have occasion to refer to Nancy again, I wish to tell here a sad experience she had soon after our arrival in Boston. She was covered with dirt—the remains of mud pies I had compelled her to eat, although she had never shown any special liking for them. The laundress at the Perkins Institution secretly carried her off to give her a bath. This was too much for poor Nancy. When I next saw her she was a formless heap of cotton, which I should not have recognized at all except for the two bead eyes which looked out at me reproachfully.

When the train at last pulled into the station at Boston it was as if a beautiful fairy tale had come true.

The "once upon a time" was now; the "far-away country" was here. We had scarcely arrived at the Perkins Institution for the Blind when I began to make friends with the little blind children.

It delighted me inexpressibly to find that they knew the manual alphabet. What joy to talk with other children in my own language! Until then I had been like a foreigner speaking through an interpreter.

In the school where Laura Bridgman was taught I was in my own country. It took me some time to appreciate the fact that my new friends were blind. I knew I could not see; but it did not seem possible that all the eager, loving children who gathered round me and joined heartily in my frolics were also blind. I remember the surprise and the pain I felt as I noticed that they placed their hands over mine when I talked to them and that they read books with their fingers.

Although I had been told this before, and although I understood my own deprivations, yet I had thought vaguely that since they could hear, they must have a sort of "second sight," and I was not prepared to find one child and another and yet another deprived of the same precious gift. But they were so happy and contented that I lost all sense of pain in the pleasure of their companionship. One day spent with the blind children made me feel thoroughly at home in my new environment, and I looked eagerly from one pleasant experience to another as the days flew swiftly by.

I could not quite convince myself that there was much world left, for I regarded Boston as the beginning and the end of creation. While we were in Boston we visited Bunker Hill, and there I had my first lesson in history. The story of the brave men who had fought on the spot where we stood excited me greatly. I climbed the monument, counting the steps, and wondering as I went higher and yet higher if the soldiers had climbed this great stairway and shot at the enemy on the ground below.

The next day we went to Plymouth by water. This was my first trip on the ocean and my first voyage in a steamboat. How full of life and motion it was! But the rumble of the machinery made me think it was thundering, and I began to cry, because I feared if it rained we should not be able to have our picnic out of doors.

I was more interested, I think, in the great rock on which the Pilgrims landed than in anything else in Plymouth. I could touch it, and perhaps that made the coming of the Pilgrims and their toils and great deeds seem more real to me. I have often held in my hand a little model of the Plymouth Rock which a kind gentleman gave me at Pilgrim Hall, and I have fingered its curves, the split in the centre and the embossed figures "," and turned over in my mind all that I knew about the wonderful story of the Pilgrims.

How my childish imagination glowed with the splendour of their enterprise! I idealized them as the bravest and most generous men that ever sought a home in a strange land. I thought they desired the freedom of their fellow men as well as their own. I was keenly surprised and disappointed years later to learn of their acts of persecution that make us tingle with shame, even while we glory in the courage and energy that gave us our "Country Beautiful.

William Endicott and his daughter. Their kindness to me was the seed from which many pleasant memories have since grown. One day we visited their beautiful home at Beverly Farms. I remember with delight how I went through their rose-garden, how their dogs, big Leo and little curly-haired Fritz with long ears, came to meet me, and how Nimrod, the swiftest of the horses, poked his nose into my hands for a pat and a lump of sugar.

I also remember the beach, where for the first time I played in the sand. It was hard, smooth sand, very different from the loose, sharp sand, mingled with kelp and shells, at Brewster. Endicott told me about the great ships that came sailing by from Boston, bound for Europe. I saw him many times after that, and he was always a good friend to me; indeed, I was thinking of him when I called Boston "The City of Kind Hearts.

I was delighted, for my mind was full of the prospective joys and of the wonderful stories I had heard about the sea. My most vivid recollection of that summer is the ocean. I had always lived far inland, and had never had so much as a whiff of salt air; but I had read in a big book called "Our World" a description of the ocean which filled me with wonder and an intense longing to touch the mighty sea and feel it roar. So my little heart leaped with eager excitement when I knew that my wish was at last to be realized.

No sooner had I been helped into my bathing-suit than I sprang out upon the warm sand and without thought of fear plunged into the cool water. I felt the great billows rock and sink.

The buoyant motion of the water filled me with an exquisite, quivering joy. Suddenly my ecstasy gave place to terror; for my foot struck against a rock and the next instant there was a rush of water over my head. I thrust out my hands to grab some support, I clutched at the water and at the seaweed which the waves tossed in my face. But all my frantic efforts were in vain.

The waves seemed to be playing a game with me, and tossed me from one to another in their wild frolic. It was fearful! The good, firm earth had slipped from my feet, and everything seemed shut out from this strange, all-enveloping element—life, air, warmth, and love. At last, however, the sea, as if weary of its new toy, threw me back on the shore, and in another instant I was clasped in my teacher's arms.

Oh, the comfort of the long, tender embrace! As soon as I had recovered from my panic sufficiently to say anything, I demanded: "Who put salt in the water?

I felt the pebbles rattling as the waves threw their ponderous weight against the shore; the whole beach seemed racked by their terrific onset, and the air throbbed with their pulsations. The breakers would swoop back to gather themselves for a mightier leap, and I clung to the rock, tense, fascinated, as I felt the dash and roar of the rushing sea!

I could never stay long enough on the shore. The tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air was like a cool, quieting thought, and the shells and pebbles and the seaweed with tiny living creatures attached to it never lost their fascination for me. One day, Miss Sullivan attracted my attention to a strange object which she had captured basking in the chilly water.

It was a great horseshoe crab—the first one I had ever seen. I felt of him and thought it strange that he should carry his house on his back. It suddenly occurred to me that he might make a delightful pet; so I seized him by the tail with both hands and carried him home. This feat pleased me highly, as his body was very heavy, and it took all my strength to drag him half a mile. I would not leave Miss Sullivan in peace until she had put the crab in a trough near the well where I was confident he would be secure.

But the next morning I went to the trough, and lo, he had disappeared! Nobody knew where he had gone, or how he had escaped. My disappointment was bitter at the time; but little by little I came to realize that it was not kind or wise to force this poor dumb creature out of his element, and after awhile I felt happy in the thought that perhaps he had returned to the sea.

As I recall that visit North I am filled with wonder at the richness and variety of the experiences that cluster about it. It seems to have been the beginning of everything. The treasures of a new, beautiful world were laid at my feet, and I took in pleasure and information at every turn. I lived myself into all things. I was never still a moment; my life was as full of motion as those little insects which crowd a whole existence into one brief day.

I had met many people who talked with me by spelling into my hand, and thought in joyous symphony leaped up to meet thought, and behold, a miracle had been wrought! The barren places between my mind and the minds of others blossomed like the rose. I spent the autumn months with my family at our summer cottage, on a mountain about fourteen miles from Tuscumbia. It was called Fern Quarry, because near it there was a limestone quarry, long since abandoned.

Three frolicsome little streams ran through it from springs in the rocks above, leaping here and tumbling there in laughing cascades wherever the rocks tried to bar their way. The opening was filled with ferns which completely covered the beds of limestone and in places hid the streams. The rest of the mountain was thickly wooded. Here were great oaks and splendid evergreens with trunks like mossy pillars, from the branches of which hung garlands of ivy and mistletoe, and persimmon trees, the odour of which pervaded every nook and corner of the wood—an illusive, fragrant something that made the heart glad.

In places, the wild muscadine and scuppernong vines stretched from tree to tree, making arbours which were always full of butterflies and buzzing insects. It was delightful to lose ourselves in the green hollows of that tangled wood in the late afternoon, and to smell the cool, delicious odours that came up from the earth at the close of day.

Our cottage was a sort of rough camp, beautifully situated on the top of the mountain among oaks and pines. The small rooms were arranged on each side of a long open hall. Round the house was a wide piazza, where the mountain winds blew, sweet with all wood-scents. We lived on the piazza most of the time—there we worked, ate and played.

At the back door there was a great butternut tree, round which the steps had been built, and in front the trees stood so close that I could touch them and feel the wind shake their branches, or the leaves twirl downward in the autumn blast. Many visitors came to Fern Quarry. In the evening, by the campfire, the men played cards and whiled away the hours in talk and sport. They told stories of their wonderful feats with fowl, fish, and quadruped—how many wild ducks and turkeys they had shot, what "savage trout" they had caught, and how they had bagged the craftiest foxes, outwitted the most clever 'possums, and overtaken the fleetest deer, until I thought that surely the lion, the tiger, the bear, and the rest of the wild tribe would not be able to stand before these wily hunters.

The men slept in the hall outside our door, and I could feel the deep breathing of the dogs and the hunters as they lay on their improvised beds. At dawn I was awakened by the smell of coffee, the rattling of guns, and the heavy footsteps of the men as they strode about, promising themselves the greatest luck of the season. I could also feel the stamping of the horses, which they had ridden out from town and hitched under the trees, where they stood all night, neighing loudly, impatient to be off.

At last the men mounted, and, as they say in the old songs, away went the steeds with bridles ringing and whips cracking and hounds racing ahead, and away went the champion hunters "with hark and whoop and wild halloo! A fire was kindled at the bottom of a deep hole in the ground, big sticks were laid crosswise at the top, and meat was hung from them and turned on spits.

Around Diy Wood Pallet Hot Tub the fire squatted negroes, driving away the flies with long branches. The savoury odour of the meat made me hungry long before the tables were set. When the bustle and excitement of preparation was at its height, the hunting party made its appearance, struggling in by twos and threes, the men hot and weary, the horses covered with foam, and the jaded hounds panting and dejected—and not a single kill!

Every man declared that he had seen at least one deer, and that the animal had come very close; but however hotly the dogs might pursue the game, however well the guns might be aimed, at the snap of the trigger there was not a deer in sight.

They had been as fortunate as the little boy who said he came very near seeing a rabbit—he saw his tracks. The party soon forgot its disappointment, however, and we sat down, not to venison, but to a tamer feast of veal and roast pig.

One summer I had my pony at Fern Quarry. I called him Black Beauty, as I had just read the book, and he resembled his namesake in every way, from his glossy black coat to the white star on his forehead.

I spent many of my happiest hours on his back. Occasionally, when it was quite safe, my teacher would let go the leading-rein, and the pony sauntered on or stopped at his sweet will to eat grass or nibble the leaves of the trees that grew beside the narrow trail. On mornings when I did not care for the ride, my teacher and I would start after breakfast for a ramble in the woods, and allow ourselves to get lost amid the trees and vines, and with no road to follow except the paths made by cows and horses.

Frequently we came upon impassable thickets which forced us to take a roundabout way. We always returned to the cottage with armfuls of laurel, goldenrod, ferns, and gorgeous swamp-flowers such as grow only in the South. Sometimes I would go with Mildred and my little cousins to gather persimmons. I did not eat them; but I loved their fragrance and enjoyed hunting for them in the leaves and grass. We also went nutting, and I helped them open the chestnut burrs and break the shells of hickory-nuts and walnuts—the big, sweet walnuts!

At the foot of the mountain there was a railroad, and the children watched the trains whiz by. Sometimes a terrific whistle brought us to the steps, and Mildred told me in great excitement that a cow or a horse had strayed on the track. About a mile distant, there was a trestle spanning a deep gorge. It was very difficult to walk over, the ties were wide apart and so narrow that one felt as if one were walking on knives.

I had never crossed it until one day Mildred, Miss Sullivan and I were lost in the woods, and wandered for hours without finding a path. Suddenly Mildred pointed with her little hand and exclaimed, "There's the trestle! I had to feel for the rails with my toe; but I was not afraid, and got on very well, until all at once there came a faint "puff, puff" from the distance. I felt the hot breath from the engine on my face, and the smoke and ashes almost choked us.

As the train rumbled by, the trestle shook and swayed until I thought we should be dashed to the chasm below. With the utmost difficulty we regained the track. Long after dark we reached home and found the cottage empty; the family were all out hunting for us. Once I went on a visit to a New England village with its frozen lakes and vast snow fields. It was then that I had opportunities such as had never been mine to enter into the treasures of the snow.

I recall my surprise on discovering that a mysterious hand had stripped the trees and bushes, leaving only here and there a wrinkled leaf. The birds had flown, and their empty nests in the bare trees were filled with snow. Winter was on hill and field. The earth seemed benumbed by his icy touch and the very spirits of the trees had withdrawn to their roots, and there, curled up in the dark, lay fast asleep. All life seemed to have ebbed away, and even when the sun shone the day was Shrunk and cold, As if her veins were sapless and old, And she rose up decrepitly For a last dim look at earth and sea.

The withered grass and the bushes were transformed into a forest of icicles. Then came a day when the chill air portended a snowstorm.

We rushed out-of-doors to feel the first few tiny flakes descending. Hour by hour the flakes dropped silently, softly from their airy height to the earth, and the country became more and more level. A snowy night closed upon the world, and in the morning one could scarcely recognize a feature of the landscape. All the roads were hidden, not a single landmark was visible, only a waste of snow with trees rising out of it. Around the great fire we sat and told merry tales, and frolicked, and quite forgot that we were in the midst of a desolate solitude, shut in from all communication with the outside world.

But during the night, the fury of the wind increased to such a degree that it thrilled us with a vague terror. The rafters creaked and strained, and the branches of the trees surrounding the house rattled and beat against the windows, as the winds rioted up and down the country. On the third day after the beginning of the storm the snow ceased. The sun broke through the clouds and shone upon a vast, undulating white plain. High mounds, pyramids heaped in fantastic shapes, and impenetrable drifts lay scattered in every direction.

Narrow paths were shoveled through the drifts. I put on my cloak and hood and went out. The air stung my cheeks like fire. Half walking in the paths, half working our way though the lesser drifts, we succeeded in reaching a pine grove just outside a broad pasture. The trees stood motionless and white like figures in a marble frieze. There was no odour of pine-needles. The rays of the sun fell upon the trees, so that the twigs sparkled like diamonds and dropped in showers when we touched them.

So dazzling was the light, it penetrated even the darkness that veils my eyes. As the days wore on, the drifts gradually shrunk, but before they were wholly gone another storm came, so that I scarcely felt the earth under my feet once all winter.

At intervals the trees lost their icy covering, and the bulrushes and underbrush were bare; but the lake lay frozen and hard beneath the sun. Our favourite amusement during that winter was tobogganing. In places the shore of the lake rises abruptly from the water's edge. Down these steep slopes we used to coast. We would get on our toboggan, a boy would give us a shove, and off we went! Plunging through drifts, leaping hollows, swooping down upon the lake, we would shoot across its gleaming surface to the opposite bank.

What joy! What exhilarating madness! For one wild, glad moment we snapped the chain that binds us to earth, and joining hands with the winds we felt ourselves divine!

I used to make noises, keeping one hand on my throat while the other hand felt the movements of my lips. I was pleased with anything that made a noise, and liked to feel the cat purr and the dog bark.

I also liked to keep my hand on a singer's throat, or on a piano when it was being played. Before I lost my sight and hearing, I was fast learning to talk, but after my illness it was found that I had ceased to speak because I could not hear.

I used to sit in my mother's lap all day long and keep my hands on her face because it amused me to feel the motions of her lips; and I moved my lips, too, although I had forgotten what talking was. My friends say that I laughed and cried naturally, and for awhile I made many sounds and word-elements, not because they were a means of communication, but because the need of exercising my vocal organs was imperative.

There was, however, one word the meaning of which I still remembered, water. I pronounced it "wa-wa. I stopped using it only after I had learned to spell the word on my fingers. I had known for a long time that the people about me used a method of communication different from mine; and even before I knew that a deaf child could be taught to speak, I was conscious of dissatisfaction with the means of communication I already possessed.

One who is entirely dependent on the manual alphabet has always a sense of restraint, of narrowness. This feeling began to agitate me with a vexing, forward-reaching sense of a lack that should be filled. My thought would often rise and beat up like birds against the wind; and I persisted in using my lips and voice.

Friends tried to discourage this tendency, fearing lest it would lead to disappointment. But I persisted, and an accident soon occurred which resulted in the breaking down of this great barrier—I heard the story of Ragnhild Kaata. In Mrs. Lamson, who had been one of Laura Bridgman's teachers, and who had just returned from a visit to Norway and Sweden, came to see me, and told me of Ragnhild Kaata, a deaf and blind girl in Norway who had actually been taught to speak.

Lamson had scarcely finished telling me about this girl's success before I was on fire with eagerness. I resolved that I, too, would learn to speak. I would not rest satisfied until my teacher took me, for advice and assistance, to Miss Sarah Fuller, principal of the Horace Mann School. This lovely, sweet-natured lady offered to teach me herself, and we began the twenty-sixth of March, Miss Fuller's method was this: she passed my hand lightly over her face, and let me feel the position of her tongue and lips when she made a sound.

Miss Fuller gave me eleven lessons in all. I shall never forget the surprise and delight I felt when I uttered my first connected sentence, "It is warm. My soul, conscious of new strength, came out of bondage, and was reaching through those broken symbols of speech to all knowledge and all faith. No deaf child who has earnestly tried to speak the words which he has never heard—to come out of the prison of silence, where no tone of love, no song of bird, no strain of music ever pierces the stillness—can forget the thrill of surprise, the joy of discovery which came over him when he uttered his first word.

Only such a one can appreciate the eagerness with which I talked to my toys, to stones, trees, birds and dumb animals, or the delight I felt when at my call Mildred ran to me or my dogs obeyed my commands. It is an unspeakable boon to me to be able to speak in winged words that need no interpretation.

As I talked, happy thoughts fluttered up out of my words that might perhaps have struggled in vain to escape my fingers. But it must not be supposed that I could really talk in this short time. I had learned only the elements of speech. Miss Fuller and Miss Sullivan could understand me, but most people would not have understood one word in a hundred. Nor is it true that, after I had learned these elements, I did the rest of the work myself. But for Miss Sullivan's genius, untiring perseverance and devotion, I could not have progressed as far as I have toward natural speech.

In the first place, I laboured night and day before I could be understood even by my most intimate friends; in the second place, I needed Miss Sullivan's assistance constantly in my efforts to articulate each sound clearly and to combine all sounds in a thousand ways.

Even now, she calls my attention every day to mispronounced words. All teachers of the deaf know what this means, and only they can appreciate the peculiar difficulties with which I had to contend. In reading my teacher's lips, I was wholly dependent on my fingers: I had to use the sense of touch in catching the vibrations of the throat, the movements of the mouth and the expression of the face; and often this sense was at fault.

In such cases I was forced to repeat the words or sentences, sometimes for hours, until I felt the proper ring in my own voice. My work was practice, practice, practice. Discouragement and weariness cast me down frequently; but the next moment the thought that I should soon be at home and show my loved ones what I had accomplished, spurred me on, and I eagerly looked forward to their pleasure in my achievement.

I used to repeat ecstatically, "I am not dumb now. It astonished me to find how much easier it is to talk than to spell with the fingers, and I discarded the manual alphabet as a medium of communication on my part; but Miss Sullivan and a few friends still use it in speaking to me, for it is more convenient and more rapid than lip-reading.

Just here, perhaps, I had better explain our use of the manual alphabet, which seems to puzzle people who do not know us. I place my hand on the hand of the speaker so lightly as not to impede its movements.

The position of the hand is as easy to feel as it is to see. I do not feel each letter any more than you see each letter separately when you read. Constant practice makes the fingers very flexible, and some of my friends spell rapidly—about as fast as an expert writes on a typewriter.

The mere, spelling is, of course, no more a conscious act than it is in writing. When I had made speech my own, I could not wait to go home. At last the happiest of happy moments arrived. I had made my homeward journey, talking constantly to Miss Sullivan, not for the sake of talking, but determined to improve to the last minute. Almost before I knew it, the train stopped at the Tuscumbia station, and there on the platform stood the whole family. My eyes fill with tears now as I think how my mother pressed me close to her, speechless and trembling with delight, taking in every syllable that I spoke, while little Mildred seized my free hand and kissed it and danced, and my father expressed his pride and affection in a big silence.

It was as if Isaah's prophecy had been fulfilled in me, "The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands! Joy deserted my heart, and for a long, long time I lived in doubt, anxiety, and fear. Books lost their charm for me, and even now the thought of those dreadful days chills my heart. Anagnos, of the Perkins Institute for the Blind, was at the root of the trouble.

In order to make the matter clear, I must set forth the facts connected with this episode, which justice to my teacher and to myself compels me to relate. We had stayed up at Fern Quarry later than usual. While we were there, Miss Sullivan described to me the beauties of the late foliage, and it seems that her descriptions revived the memory of a story, which must have been read to me and which I must have unconsciously retained. I thought then that I was "making up a story," as children say, and I eagerly sat down to write it before the ideas should slip from me.

My thoughts flowed easily; I felt a sense of joy in the composition. Words and images came tripping to my finger ends, and as I thought out sentence after sentence, I wrote them on my braille slate.

Now, if words and images came to me without effort, it is a pretty sure sign that they are not the offspring of my own mind, but stray waifs that I regretfully dismiss. At that time I eagerly absorbed everything I read without a thought of authorship, and even now I cannot be quite sure of the boundary line between my ideas and those I find in books.

I suppose that is because so many of my impressions come to me through the medium of others' eyes and ears. When the story was finished, I read it to my teacher, and I recall now vividly the pleasure I felt in the more beautiful passages, and my annoyance at being interrupted to have the pronunciation of a word corrected.

At dinner it was read to the assembled family, who were surprised that I could write so well. Some one asked me if I had read it in a book. The question surprised me very much; for I had not the faintest recollection of having had it read to me.

I spoke up and said, "Oh, no, it is my story, and I have written it for Mr. I carried the little story to the post office myself, feeling as if I were walking on air. I little dreamed how cruelly I should pay for that birthday gift. Anagnos was delighted with "The Frost King" and published it in one of the Perkins Institution reports. This was the pinnacle of my happiness, from which I was in a little while dashed to earth. Canby, had appeared before I was born in a book called "Birdie and His Friends.

It was difficult to make me understand this; but when I did understand I was astonished and grieved. No child ever drank deeper of the cup of bitterness than I did. I had disgraced myself; I had brought suspicion upon those I loved best. And yet how could it possibly have happened? I racked my brain until I was weary to recall anything about the frost that I had read before I wrote "The Frost King;" but I could remember nothing, except the common reference to Jack Frost, and a poem for children, "The Freaks of the Frost," and I knew I had not used that in my composition.

At first Mr. Anagnos, though deeply troubled, seemed to believe me. He was unusually tender and kind to me, and for a brief space the shadow lifted. To please him I tried not to be unhappy, and to make myself as pretty as possible for the celebration of Washington's birthday, which took place very soon after I received the sad news.

I was to be Ceres in a kind of masque given by the blind girls.

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