At this distance from the house I
could freely indulge my propensity for singing, albeit in that coarser
tone which had failed to win favor with my new friends.
Among the grand trees, out of earshot of them all, I could shout aloud
to my heart's content, rejoicing in the boisterous old English ballads,
which, like John Peele's view-hallo,
_"Might awaken the dead
Or the fox from his lair in the morning."_
Meanwhile, with the frantic energy of a Gladstone out of office, I plied
my ax, its echoing strokes making fit accompaniment to my strains, until
for many yards about me the ground was littered with white and yellow
chips; then, exhausted with my efforts, I would sit down to rest and eat
my simple midday fare, to admire myself in my deep-green and chocolate
working-dress, and, above everything, to think and dream of Yoletta.
* * * * *
In my walks to and from the forest I cast many a wistful look at a
solitary flat-topped hill, almost a mountain in height, which stood two
or three miles from the house, north of it, on the other side of the
river.
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