| OCR Text |
Show Page 110 terrified of the woman. As he started up the ladder to bed, his face was still ash pale, his legs still trembled. Would that I knew how to help him! ******************** October, 1620 I am filled with unexplained longings for things unknown. Perhaps it is the time of year that puts me in such turmoil, for the season the Indians call cohonk has come. The heat of summer has fled, taking with it the biting gnats and flies, and bringing after it a soothing sun and a sapphire sky ofttimes filled with the black and thunderous beating of wings, the honk of the wild goose, the cry of the swan and the mallard. The forest has painted its tresses and is bedecked with a joyous riot of russett, red and gold that near takes my breath away. We spend our days gathering the wild harvest: grapes, onions, nuts, berries. Walter has built a turkey pen in the forest and last week captured nigh fifty of the creatures, which even now are being salted and smoked for winter. Had we more salt, we could dry more game. It is rumored that a Lieutenant Craddock is to restore the saltworks on Smith's |
