It was a warm summer day. Not too warm, for away up in the Connecticut hills the sun seemed to temper its
rays, and down among the shadows of the trees surrounding Great Pond there were cool, shady glades where
one could almost fancy it was May instead of hot July.
At a point not far from the water, leaning against the trunk of a stately maple, stood a young man. His head,
from which he had raised a somewhat old and weather-beaten hat, was finely formed, and covered with
chestnut curls; his clothes, also shabby and worn, were homespun and ill-fitting, but his erect...