Dwellers in Arcady The Story of an Abandoned Farm   By: Albert Bigelow Paine (1861-1937)

Books by

ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

For Young Readers

THE BOYS' LIFE OF MARK TWAIN HOLLOW TREE NIGHTS AND DAYS THE HOLLOW TREE AND DEEP WOODS BOOK THE HOLLOW TREE SNOWED IN BOOK

Small books of several stories each, selected from the above Hollow Tree books:

HOW MR. DOG GOT EVEN HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS TAIL MR. RABBIT'S BIG DINNER MAKING UP WITH MR. DOG MR. 'POSSUM'S GREAT BALLOON TRIP WHEN JACK RABBIT WAS A LITTLE BOY MR. RABBIT'S WEDDING MR. CROW AND THE WHITEWASH MR. TURTLE'S FLYING ADVENTURE

For Grown ups

DWELLERS IN ARCADY MARK TWAIN'S LETTERS MARK TWAIN: A BIOGRAPHY TH. NAST: HIS PERIOD AND HIS PICTURES THE SHIP DWELLERS (Humorous travel) THE TENT DWELLERS (Humorous camping) FROM VAN DWELLER TO COMMUTER (Humorous, home life) PEANUT (Story of a boy)

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK

[Illustration: Once more it was a habitation and a home ]

[Illustration]

DWELLERS IN ARCADY

The Story of an Abandoned Farm

by

Albert Bigelow Paine

Author of "From Van Dweller to Commuter" "The Ship Dwellers" "The Tent Dwellers" Etc.

With Illustrations by Thomas Fogarty

[Illustration]

Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London

Copyright, 1919, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America Published March, 1919

ILLUSTRATIONS

Once more it was a habitation and a home Frontispiece

"And here is your house," said William C. Westbury 6

They formed a board of appraisal. All of them knew that cellar and were intimately acquainted with its contents 44

I made about three leaps and grabbed it, and a second later had it hooked and was back, the lightning at my heels 68

Sometimes at the end of the day, as I sat by the waning embers, and watched her moving to and fro between me and the fading autumn fields 110

"Good afternoon," I said. "Can you tell us where we are?" 156

I remember that as a golden summer, an enthusiastic summer, and, on the whole, a successful one 206

It was on a winter evening that I drove our car back to its old place in the barn, after its long journeyings by land and sea 238

CHAPTER ONE

I

All my life I had dreamed of owning a brook

[Illustration]

Just below the brow of the hill one of the traces broke (it was in the horse and wagon days of a dozen years or so ago), and, if our driver had not been a prompt man our adventure might have come to grief when it was scarcely begun. As it was, we climbed on foot to the top, and waited while he went into a poor old wreck of a house to borrow a string for repairs.

We wondered if the house we were going to see would be like this one. It was of no special design and it had never had a period. It was just a house, built out of some one's urgent need and a lean purse. In the fifty years or so of its existence it had warped and lurched and become sway backed and old oh, so old and dilapidated without becoming in the least antique, but just dismal and disreputable a veritable pariah of architecture. We thought this too bad, for the situation, with its view down a little valley and in the distance the hazy hills, was the sort of thing that, common as it is in Connecticut, never loses its charm. Never mind, we said, perhaps "our house" would have a view, too.