Arthur Sherburne Hardy,
Isaac
(1912)
“ Every one who has lived in the woods knows how swiftly Nature's tragic forces gather at the rendezvous. A few minutes late in entering a carry, and a plain trail is changed to a hopeless maze of stumps, briers, and swamp, through which one flounders in Plutonian darkness. A puff of wind leaps from the top of the cliff, and the leach of the mainsail is under water. Who would have suspected that in Maggie, singing to herself as she kneaded the dough for the morrow's baking, the human forces which make for tragedy were slumbering as the forces slumber in the coils of the spring? ”
