Lillian Elizabeth Roy, Natalie: A Garden Scout
“ The singing of the birds, nested in the old red maple tree that overshadowed the house on the side where Natalie’s room was, roused her from the most restful sleep she had had in months. No vibration of electricity such as one constantly hears and feels in the city, no shouting of folks in the streets, no milkman with his reckless banging of cans, no steamboat’s shrieks and wails such as one hears when living on the Drive, disturbed the peace and quietude of the night in the country. ”
