Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Old Home Week Addresses
I love to picture in my mind's eye the country about here as it was in those days. Often, when Iwas a boy, I used to ?oat down the Cocheco or Piscata'qua and dream of the old Indian days. I used to imagine myself one of the early settlers. I saw around me, as my boat quietly swung along on the tide, the great, dark forest trees bending to the water's edge. I peered keenly to right and left, trying to pierce the depths for my lurking enemy. I glanced hurriedly up each little creek and bay for the redskin's canoe. I listened for the breaking of a twig, the rasp of a pad dle, the warning cry of a bird. I watched the tree-tops for a signal-smoke. When, the forests safely passed, my boat came out into the clear, open reaches of the stream, I imagined myself pursued by hos tile war canoes, and heard the blood-curd ling yells of my pursuers, who were, of course, always left far behind by my tre mendous strength and wonderful skill with the paddle. Generally, I found time6 old home week addresses.
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