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Many visitors came to Fern Quarry. In the evening, by the camp-fire, 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. "To-morrow to the chase!" was their good-night shout as the circle of friends broke up for the night. The men slept in the hall outside our door, and I could feel the deep breathing of the dogs and hunters as they lay on their improvised beds.

Memories of a Southern Hunting Season

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 away went the steeds with whips cracking and hounds racing ahead, and away went the champion hunters "with hark and whoop and wild halloo! "

Later in the morning we made preparations for a barbecue. 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 the fire squatted negroes, driving away the flies with long branches. The savory odor of the meat made me hungry long before the tables were set.

At the height of the bustle and excitement of preparation the hunting party made its appearance, straggling 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.

Thrilling Adventure on a Railroad Bridge

ON MORNINGS when I did not care for a 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, with no road to follow except the winding paths made by cows and horses. Frequently we came upon impassable thickets which forced us to take a roundabout way. Overhead, the branches of the trees met to form a canopy, through which the sunlight came softened and made a wonderful checkerwork of light and shadow on the pine-needles. In places the trees were covered from the roots to the topmost branches with trailing moss, but usually the vines hid them from view. 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 it always interested the children to watch 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!" We would have taken any way rather than this; but it was late and growing dark, and the trestle was a short cut home. 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 see the train!" cried Mildred, and in another minute it would have been upon us had we not climbed down on the cross-braces while it rushed over our heads. 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; for the family, being anxious, were all out hunting for us.