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retired from business； and was no longer in competition with its neighbors：
the dam was torn away； the sawmills were pulled down； husbands and fathers
were laid in the churchyard； sons and brothers and lovers had gone West； and
mothers and widows and spinsters stayed on； each in her quiet house alone。
〃'T ain't no hardship when you get used to it；〃 said the Widow Buzzell。
〃Land sakes！ a lantern 's 's good 's a man any time； if you only think so；
'n' 't ain't half so much trouble to keep it filled up！〃
But Tom still sold a basket occasionally； and the children
always gathered about him for the sake of hearing him repeat
his well…worn formula；Tom allers puts two handles on baskets：
one to take 'em up by； one to set 'em down by。〃
This was said with a beaming smile and a wise shake of the head；
as if he were announcing a great discovery to an expectant world。
And then he would lay down his burden of basket stuff；
and； sitting under an apple…tree in somebody's side yard；
begin his task of willow…bottoming an old chair。 It was a pretty
sight enough； if one could keep back the tears；the kindly；
simple fellow with the circle of children about his knees。
Never a village fool without a troop of babies at his heels。
They love him； too； till we teach them to mock。
When he was younger； he would sing；
〃Rock…a…by； baby； on the treetop；〃
and dance the while； swinging his unfinished basket to and fro for a cradle。
He was too stiff in the joints for dancing nowadays； but he still sang
the 〃bloomin' gy…ar…ding〃 when ever they asked him； particularly if
some apple…cheeked little maid would say； 〃Please； Tom！〃
He always laughed then； and； patting the child's hand； said； 〃Pooty gal；
got eyes！〃 The youngsters dance with glee at this meaningless phrase；
just as their mothers had danced years before when it was said to them。
Summer waned。 In the moist places the gentian uncurled
its blue fringes； purple asters and gay Joe Pye waved their
colors by the roadside； tall primroses put their yellow
bonnets on； and peeped over the brooks to see themselves；
and the dusty pods of the milkweed were bursting with
their silky fluffs； the spinning of the long summer。
Autumn began to paint the maples red and the elms yellow；
for the early days of September brought a frost。
Some one remarked at the village store that old Blueb'ry Tom
must not be suffered to stay on the plains another winter；
now that he was getting so feeble；not if the 〃_se_leckmen〃 had
to root him out and take him to the poor…farm。 He would surely
starve or freeze； and his death would be laid at their door。
Tom was interviewed。 Persuasion； logic； sharp words； all failed
to move him one jot or tittle。 He stood in his castle door；
with the ladder behind him； smiling； always smiling
（none but the fool smiles always； nor always weeps）； and saying
to all visitors； 〃Tom ain't ter hum； Tom's gone to Bonny Eagle；
Tom don' want to go to the poor…farm。〃
November came in surly。
The cheerful stir and bustle of the harvest were over； the corn
was shocked； the apples and pumpkins were gathered into barns。
The problem of Tom's future was finally laid before the selectmen；
and since the poor fellow's mild obstinancy had defeated all attempts
to conquer it； the sheriff took the matter in hand。
The blueberry plains looked bleak and bare enough now。 It had rained
incessantly for days； growing ever colder and colder as it rained。
The sun came out at last； but it shone in a wintry sort of way；
like a duty smile；as if light； not heat； were its object。
A keen wind blew the dead leaves hither and thither in a wild dance
that had no merriment in it。 A blackbird flew under an old barrel
by the wayside； and； ruffling himself into a ball； remarked despondently
that feathers were no sort of protection in this kind of climate。
A snowbird； flying by； glanced in at the barrel； and observed that
anybody who minded a little breeze like that had better join the woodcocks；
who were leaving for the South by the night express。
The blueberry bushes were stripped bare of green。 The stunted
pines and sombre hemlocks looked in tone with the landscape now；
where all was dreary they did not seem amiss。
〃Je…whilikins！〃 exclaimed the sheriff as he drew up his coat collar。
〃A madhouse is the place for the man who wants to live ou'doors in
the winter time； the poor…farm is too good for him。〃
But Tom was used to privation； and even to suffering。
〃Ou'doors〃 was the only home he knew； and with all its rigors he loved it。
He looked over the barren plains； knowing； in a dull sort of way；
that they would shortly be covered with snow； but he had three coats；
two of them with sleeves； and the crunch…crunch of the snow
under his tread was music to his ears。 Then； too； there were
a few hospitable firesides where he could always warm himself；
and the winter would soon be over； the birds would come again；
new birds； singing the old songs；the sap would mount in the trees；
the buds swell on the blueberry bushes； and the young ivory
leaves push their ruddy tips through the softening ground。
The plains were fatherland and mother…country； home and kindred； to Tom。
He loved the earth that nourished him； and he saw through all
the seeming death in nature the eternal miracle of the resurrection。
To him winter was never cruel。 He looked underneath her white mantle；
saw the infant spring hidden in her warm bosom； and was content to wait。
Content to wait？ Content to starve； content to freeze； if only
he need not be carried into captivity。
The poor…farm was not a bad place； either； if only Tom
had been a reasonable being。 To be sure； when Hannah Sophia
Palmer asked old Mrs。 Pinkham how she liked it； she answered；
with a patient sigh； that 〃her 'n' Mr。 Pinkham hed lived
there goin' on nine year； workin' their fingers to the bone
'most； 'n' yet they hadn't been able to lay up a cent！〃
If this peculiarity of administration was its worst feature；
it was certainly one that would have had no terrors for Tom o'
the blueb'ry plains。 Terrors of some sort； nevertheless；
the poor…farm had for him； and when the sheriff's party
turned in by the clump of white birches and approached
the cabin； they found that fear had made the simple wise。
Tom had provished the little upper chamber； and； in place
of the piece of sacking that usually served him for a door
in winter； he had woven a defense of willow。 In fine；
he had taken all his basket stuff； and； treating the opening
through which he entered and left his home precisely as
if it were a bottomless chair； he had filled it in solidly；
weaving to and fro； by night as well as by day； till he felt；
poor fool； as safely intrenched as if he were in the heart
of a fortress。
The sheriff tied his horse to a tree； and Rube Hobson and Pitt Packard
got out of the double wagon。 Two men laughed when they saw the pathetic
defense； but the other shut his