that arises directly in front of the “Hollow of the Pines” or “Bloodroot hollow”.  On the left is sparse woodland, beyond which, halfway up the hill is a coal mine.  On the right is the denser woods of Cigar Hill.  Reaching the top all at once a roar broke in upon my ears – the roar of a cataract.  The hill had shut it off before, and coming up from a silent earth to this sudden sound was like a revelation.  It seemed as tho the roar had just started at the moment and cast such a wild springy spell over me, which, augmented by more roaring cataracts further on, held possession of me until I got home.
     It was a beautiful scene and a wild that surrounded this cataract and which was most fitting as an expression of the breaking away of nature from winter.  Just around that bluff sort of headland lurked dark and mysterious Hollow of the Pines, in front of which was a flat space, over run with rank yellowish grass and brown underbrush.  At the very base of the “headland” a gaunt dead tree reared up-wards with a mass of grapevines clinging desperately to it.  To the south was the steep hill covered over with light ochreish grass and patches of snow, flanked by clumps of