There were pleasant memories entwined in that departing summer; and it now seemed as if all nature was joining in a requiem to its fading beauties.
The settlers had gathered their winter fruit, and the cider-presses had finished their work for the season.

Squashes were hung up in the cellar, the corn was shucked and in the bins, and heaps of ripe, lusty pumpkins stood in the fields.

In the houses fresh flitches of bacon hung by the fireside, while festoons of dried apples decorated the beams overhead.
There, too, were the young nut-gatherers, coming home of an evening with their well-filled satchels.

There was to be peace and plenty at the settlers' fireside this winter, for an all-wise Providence had so ordained it in an abundant harvest.
It was a custom with Hanz Toodleburg, as it was also with many other of the settlers, to entertain his friends and neighbors with a merry-making when the harvest was gathered.

Hanz had invited his neighbors on the evening of the day I have described, and notwithstanding the cold and cheerless character of the night, the little house was full ere it was dark.