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Updated: May 31, 2025
Dale pulled his fur cap lower, and gladly let Betty have her will. Now when Billy had left Joyce at the end of their flight, it was near the door of the woodman's hut. "Billy," Joyce had said, lingeringly clinging to him as the last familiar thing in her happy span of life; "Billy, you must turn back, and God bless you, dear.
Trouble was coming, however, that was to try the young girl's faith as it had never been tried before. Back of Ridgewood village was a forest of large extent, bordering on a narrow stream. This woods was owned by an Eastern capitalist and he had as yet permitted no woodman's ax to resound in its depths.
Returning home from a hunt, north of the Ohio, he was walking along in that reckless manner, which is a consequence of fatigue, when his quick eye suddenly caught sight of an Indian in the act of raising his gun to fire. Both sprung like lightning to the woodman's forts, large trees, and there they stood for an hour, each afraid of the other.
Brain of the Indian police was glaring at the new object, and it was a moment or two before he spoke, harshly and almost hoarsely. "What are you doing with that?" he asked. "Seems to be a woodman's chopper." "A natural association of ideas," observed Horne Fisher. "If you meet a cat in a wood you think it's a wildcat, though it may have just strolled from the drawing-room sofa.
When completed it would be a striking picture: the smoky sunset tints of a November afternoon were faithfully depicted; and a woodman's hut, just falling into decay, with golden lichen on the rotting roof, was marvellously painted. Malcolm stood before it in a rapt mood of ecstasy, then he struck himself dramatically on the breast.
Wild fruit they are, cast by a superannuated crab, spared by the woodman's axe because it stands on the verge of the orchard. The apple-pickers never look under it for gleanings. The beans were pulled from a frost-bitten vine in the garden, and shelled with difficulty, the pods being tough, and Boy's fingers tender.
"I hope that tin thing won't try to kiss me goodbye!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman's former head. "And I don't see what right you folks have to disturb my peace and comfort, either." "You belong to me," the Tin Woodman declared. "I do not!" "You and I are one." "We've been parted," asserted the Head. "It would be unnatural for me to have any interest in a man made of tin.
Then little Sheen was forgotten by her father, and she was reared and companioned by the servants of the house. One day, when she was the age her eldest brother was when he was changed from his human form, Sheen went with Mor, the Woodman's daughter, and Siav, the basket-maker's foster-child, to gather berries in the wood. Going here and there she got separated from Siav and Mor.
Millais was already known as the painter of strange and vivid pictures of small size, which attracted attention, and put the public into a state of much embarrassment. There were three of these strange pictures that year, an illustration of Tennyson, "She only said, 'My life is dreary," the "Return of the Dove to the Ark," and the "Woodman's Daughter."
It is always graceful and picturesque, imparting an oriental aspect to everything which surrounds it. It is estimated that over ten million acres of native forests, covered by valuable wood, still remain untouched by the woodman's axe, especially on and about the mountain range, which extends nearly the entire length of the island, like the vertebræ of an immense whale.
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