know　what　you　have　done；　but　the　enchantment　of　the　tree…land
  will　enter　your　heart　and　the　charm　of　the　wildwood　will　flow
  through　your　veins。
  You　will　never　get　away　from　it。　　The　sighing　of　the　wind
  through　the　pine…trees　and　the　laughter　of　the　stream　in　its
  rapids　will　sound　through　all　your　dreams。　　On　beds　of　silken
  softness　you　will　long　for　the　sleep…song　of　whispering　leaves
  above　your　head；　and　the　smell　of　a　couch　of　balsam…boughs。　　At
  tables　spread　with　dainty　fare　you　will　be　hungry　for　the　joy　of
  the　hunt；　and　for　the　angler's　sylvan　feast。　　In　proud　cities　you
  will　weary　for　the　sight　of　a　mountain　trail；　in　great　cathedrals
  you　will　think　of　the　long；　arching　aisles　of　the　woodland；　and
  in　the　noisy　solitude　of　crowded　streets　you　will　hone　after　the
  friendly　forest。
  This　is　what　will　happen　to　you　if　you　eat　the　leaves　of
  that　little　vine；　Wood…Magic。　　And　this　is　what　happened　to
  Luke　Dubois。
  I
  The　Cabin　by　the　Rivers
  Two　highways　meet　before　the　door；　and　a　third　reaches　away　to
  the　southward；　broad　and　smooth　and　white。　　But　there　are　no
  travellers　passing　by。　　The　snow　that　has　fallen　during　the
  night　is　unbroken。　　The　pale　February　sunrise　makes　blue　shadows
  on　it；　sharp　and　jagged；　an　outline　of　the　fir…trees　on　the
  mountain…crest　quarter　of；　a　mile　away。
  In　summer　the　highways　are　dissolved　into　three　wild
  riversthe　River　of　Rocks；　which　issues　from　the　hills；　the
  River　of　Meadows；　which　flows　from　the　great　lake；　and　the
  River　of　the　Way　Out；　which　runs　down　from　their　meeting…place
  to　the　settlements　and　the　little　world。　　But　in　winter；　when
  the　ice　is　firm　under　the　snow；　and　the　going　is　fine；　there
  are　no　tracks　upon　the　three　broad　roads　except　the　paths　of
  the　caribou；　and　the　footprints　of　the　marten　and　the　mink　and
  the　fox；　and　the　narrow　trails　made　by　Luke　Dubois　on　his　way
  to　and　from　his　cabin　by　the　rivers。
  He　leaned　in　the　door…way；　looking　out。　　Behind　him　in　the
  shadow；　the　fire　was　still　snapping　in　the　little　stove　where
  he　had　cooked　his　breakfast。　　There　was　a　comforting　smell　of
  bacon　and　venison　in　the　room；　the　tea…pot　stood　on　the　table
  half…empty。　　Here　in　the　corner　were　his　rifle　and　some　of　his
  traps。　　On　the　wall　hung　his　snowshoes。　　Under　the　bunk　was　a
  pile　of　skins。　　Half…open　on　the　bench　lay　the　book　that　he　had
  been　reading　the　evening　before；　while　the　snow　was　falling。　　It
  was　a　book　of　veritable　fairy…tales；　which　told　how　men　had　made
  their　way　in　the　world；　and　achieved　great　fortunes；　and　won
  success；　by　toiling　hard　at　first；　and　then　by　trading　and
  bargaining　and　getting　ahead　of　other　men。
  〃Well；〃　said　Luke；　to　himself；　as　he　stood　at　the　door；　〃I
  could　do　that　too。　　Without　doubt　I　also　am　one　of　the　men　who
  can　do　things。　　They　did　not　work　any　harder　than　I　do。　　But
  they　got　better　pay。　　I　am　twenty…five。　　For　ten　years　I　have
  worked　hard；　and　what　have　I　got　for　it？　　This！〃
  He　stepped　out　into　the　morning；　alert　and　vigorous；
  deep…chested　and　straight…hipped。　　The　strength　of　the　hills
  had　gone　into　him；　and　his　eyes　were　bright　with　health。　　His
  kingdom　was　spread　before　him。　　There　along　the　River　of
  Meadows　were　the　haunts　of　the　moose　and　the　caribou　where　he
  hunted　in　the　fall；　and　yonder　on　the　burnt　hills　around　the
  great　lake　were　the　places　where　he　watched　for　the　bears；　and
  up　beside　the　River　of　Rocks　ran　his　line　of　traps；　swinging　back
  by　secret　ways　to　many　a　nameless　pond　and　hidden
  beaver…meadow；　and　all　along　the　streams；　when　the　ice　went
  out　in　the　spring；　the　great　trout　would　be　leaping　in　rapid
  and　pool。　　Among　the　peaks　and　valleys　of　that　forest…clad
  kingdom　he　could　find　his　way　as　easily　as　a　merchant　walks
  from　his　house　to　his　office。　　The　secrets　of　bird　and　beast
  were　known　to　him；　every　season　of　the　year　brought　him　its
  own　tribute；　the　woods　were　his　domain；　vast；　inexhaustible；
  free。
  Here　was　his　home；　his　cabin　that　he　had　built　with　his
  own　hands。　　The　roof　was　tight；　the　walls　were　well　chinked
  with　moss。　　It　was　snug　and　warm。　　But　smallhow　pitifully
  small　it　looked　to…dayand　how　lonely！
  His　hand…sledge　stood　beside　the　door；　and　against　it
  leaned　the　axe。　　He　caught　it　up　and　began　to　split　wood　for
  the　stove。　　〃No！〃　he　cried；　throwing　down　the　axe；　〃I'm　tired
  of　this。　　It　has　lasted　long　enough。　　I'm　going　out　to　make　my
  way　in　the　world。〃
  A　couple　of　hours　later；　the　sledge　was　packed　with　camp…gear
  and　bundles　of　skins。　　The　door　of　the　cabin　was　shut；　a
  ghostlike　wreath　of　blue　smoke　curled　from　the　chimney。　　Luke
  stood；　in　his　snowshoes；　on　the　white　surface　of　the　River　of　the
  Way　Out。　　He　turned　to　look　back　for　a　moment；　and　waved　his
  hand。
  〃Good…bye；　old　cabin！　Good…bye；　the　rivers！　　Good…bye；　the
  woods！〃
  II
  The　House　on　the　Main　Street
  All　the　good　houses　in　Scroll…Saw　City　were　different；　in　the
  number　and　shape　of　the　curious　pinnacles　that　rose　from　their
  roofs　and　in　the　trimmings　of　their　verandas。　　Yet　they　were
  all　alike；　too；　in　their　general　expression　of　putting　their
  best　foot　foremost　and　feeling　quite　sure　that　they　made　a
  brave　show。　　They　had　lace　curtains　in　their　front　parlour
  windows；　and　outside　of　the　curtains　were　large　red　and　yellow
  pots　of　artificial　flowers　and　indestructible　palms　and
  vulcanised　rubber…plants。　　It　was　a　gay　sight。
  But　by　far　the　bravest　of　these　houses　was　the　residence
  of　Mr。　Matthew　Wilson；　the　principal　merchant　of　Scroll…Saw
  City。　　It　stood　on　a　corner　of　Main　Street；　glancing　slyly　out
  of　the　tail　of　one　eye；　side…ways　down　the　street；　toward　the
  shop　and　the　business；　but　keeping　a　bold；　complacent　front
  toward　the　street…cars　and　the　smaller　houses　across　the　way。
  It　might　well　be　satisfied　with　itself；　for　it　had　three　more
  pinnacles　than　any　of　its　neighbours；　and　the　work　of　the
  scroll…saw　was　looped　and　festooned　all　around　the　eaves　and
  porticoes　and　bay…windows　in　amazing　richness。　　Moreover；　in
  the　front　yard　were　cast…iron　images　painted　white：　a　stag
  reposing　on　a　door…mat；　Diana　properly　dressed　and　returning
  from　the　chase；　a　small　iron　boy　holding　over　his　head　a
  parasol　from　the　ferrule　of　which　a　fountain　squirted。　　The
  paths　were　of　asphalt；　gray　and　gritty　in　winter；　but　now；　in
  the　summer　heat；　black　and　pulpy　to　the　tread。
  There　were　many　feet　passing　over　them　this　afternoon；　for
  Mr。　and　Mrs。　Matthew　Wilson　were　giving　a　reception　to
  celebrate　the　official　entrance　of　their　daughter　Amanda　into　a
  social　life　which　she　had　permeated　unofficially　for　several
  years。　　The　house　was　sizzling　full　of　people。　　Those　who　were
  jammed　in　the　parlour　tried　to　get　into　the　dining…room；　and
  those　who　were　packed　in　the　dining…room　struggled　to　escape；
  holding　plates　of　stratified　cake　and　liquefied　ice…cream　high
  above　their　neighbours'　heads　like　signals　of　danger　and
  distress。　　Everybody　was　talking　at　the　same　time；　in　a　loud；
  shrill　voice；　and　nobody　listened　to　what　anybody　else　was
  saying。　But　it　did　not　matter；　for　they　all　said　the　same　things。
  〃Elegant　house　for　a　party；　so　full　of〃　　〃How　perfectly
  lovely　Amanda　Wilson　looks　in　that〃　　〃Awfully　warm　day！
  Were　you　at　the　Tompkins'　last〃　　〃Wilson's　Emporium　must　be
  doing　good　business　to　keep　up　all　this〃　　〃Hear　he's　going
  to　enlarge　the　store　and　take　Luke　Woods　into　the〃
  〃Shouldn't　wonder　if　there　might　be　a　wedding　here　before
  next〃
  The　tide　of　chatter　rose　and　swelled　and　ebbed　and
  suddenly　sank　away。　　At　six　o'clock；　the　minister　and　two
  maiden　ladies　in　black　silk　with　lilac　ribbons；　laid　down　their
  last　plates　of　ice…cream　and　said　they　thought　they　must　be
  going。　　Amanda　and　her　mother　preened　their　dresses　and　patted
  their　hair。　　Come　into　the　study；〃　said　Mr。　Wilson　to　Luke。　　〃I
  want　to　have　a　talk　with　you。〃
  The　little　bookless　room；　called　the　study；　was　the　one
  that　kept　its　eye　on　the　shop　and　the　business；　away　down　the
  street。　　You　could　see　the　brick　front；　and　the　plate…glass
  windows；　and　part　of　the　gilt　sign。
  〃Pretty　good　store；〃　said　Mr。　Wilson；　jingling　the　keys　in
  his　pocket；　〃does　the　biggest　trade　in　the　county；　biggest　but
  one　in　the　whole　state；　I　guess。　　And　I　must　say；　Luke　Woods；
  you've　done　your　share；　these　last　five　years；　in　building　it
  up。　　Never　had　a　clerk　work　so　hard　and　so　steady。　　You've　got
  good　business　sense；　I　guess。〃
  〃I'm　glad　you　think　so；〃　said　Luke。　　〃I　did　as　well　as　I
  could。〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　the　elder　man；　〃and　now　I'm　about　ready　to
  take　you　in　with　me；　give　you　a　share　in　the　business。　　I　want
  some　one　to　help　me　run　it；　make　it　larger。　　We　can　double　it；
  easy；　if　we　stick　to　it　and　spread　out。　　No　reason　why　you
  shouldn't　make　a　fortune　out　of　it；　and　have　a　house　just　like
  this　on　the　other　corner；　when　you're　my　age。〃
  Luke's　thoughts　were　wandering　a　little。　　They　went　out
  from　the　stuffy　room；　beyond　the　dusty　street；　and　the
  jangling　cars；　and　the　gilt　sign；　and　the　shop　full　of
  dry…goods　and　notions；　and　the　high　desks　in　the　officeout
  to　the　dim；　cool　forest；　where　Snowberry　and　Partridge…berry
  and　Wood…Magic　grow。　　He　heard　the　free　winds　rushing　over　the
  tree…tops；　and　saw　the　trail　winding　away　before　him　in　the
  green　shade。