cause
of the whip-poor-wills that set on a tree close by, and called till
mornin' light; but after that I was too tired to lie awake.

Well, it was real lonesome, but it was all new at first, and Russell
was to work near by, so't I could see him, and oftentimes hear him
whistle; and I had the garden to make, round to the new house, for I
knew more about the plantin' of it than he did, 'specially my
posy-bed, and I had a good time gettin' new flowers out of the woods.
And the woods was real splendid,--great tall tulip-trees, as high as a
steeple and round as a quill, without any sort o' branches ever so fur
up, and the whole top full of the yeller tulips and the queer
snipped-lookin' shiny leaves, till they looked like great bow-pots on
sticks; then there's lots of other great trees, only they're all
mostly spindled up in them woods. But the flowers that grow round on
the ma'sh edges and in the clearin's do beat all.

So time passed along pretty glib till the frame-house was done, and
then we had to move in, and to get the things from Cumberton, and
begin to feel as though we were settled for good and all; and after
the newness had gone off, and the clearin' got so fur that I couldn't
see Russell no more, and nobody to look at, if I was never so
lonesome, then come a pretty hard spell. Everything about the house
was real handy, so't I'd get my work cleared away, and set down to sew
early; and them long summer-days that was still and hot, I'd set, and
set, never hearin' nothin' but the clock go "tick, tick, tick," (never
"tack," for a change,) and every now'n'then a great crash and roar in
the woods where he was choppin', that I knew was a tree; and I worked
myself up dreadfully when there was a longer spell 'n common come
betwixt the crashes, lest that Russell might 'a' been ketched under
the one that fell. And settin' so, and worryin' a good deal, day in
and day out, kinder broodin' over my troubles, and never thinkin'
about anybody but myself, I got to be of the idee that I was the
worst-off creature goin'. If I'd have stopped to think about Russell,
may-be I should have had some sort of pity for him, for he was jest as
lonesome as I, and I wasn't no kind of comfort to come home to,--'most
always cryin', or jest a-goin' to.

So the summer went along till 'twas nigh on to winter, and I wa'n't in
no better sperrits. And now I wa'n't real well, and I pined for
mother, and I pined for Major, and I'd have given all the h