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Page 1
Hollis is a quiet, secluded place, a picturesque but almost deserted
village--if the few houses so widely scattered can be termed a
village--located among the undulating hills that lie along the lower
reaches of the Saco River. Here she plans to do almost all her actual
writing--the story itself is begun long before--and she resorts to the
place with pent-up energy.
A quaint old house of colonial date and style, set in the midst of
extensive grounds and shaded by graceful old trees,--this is
"Quillcote,"--the summer home of Mrs. Wiggin. Quillcote is typical of
many old New England homesteads; with an environment that is very close
to the heart of nature, it combines all that is most desirable and
beautiful in genuine country life. The old manor house is located on a
sightly elevation commanding a varied view of the surrounding hills and
fertile valleys; to the northwest are to be seen the foot-hills of Mt.
Washington, and easterly a two hours' drive will bring one to Old
Orchard Beach, and the broad, blue, delicious ocean whose breezes are
generously wafted inland to Quillcote.
Mrs. Wiggin is thoroughly in love with this big rambling house, from
garret to cellar. A genuine historic air seems to surround the entire
place, lending an added charm, and there are many impressive
characteristics of the house in its dignity of architecture, which seem
to speak of a past century with volumes of history in reserve. A few
steps from these ample grounds, on the opposite side of the road, is a
pretty wooden cottage of moderate size and very attractive, the early
home of Mrs. Wiggin. These scenes have inspired much of the local
coloring of her stories of New England life and character. "Pleasant
River" in _Timothy's Quest_ is drawn from this locality, and in her
latest book, _The Village Watch Tower_, many of her settings and
descriptions are very close to existing conditions.
Her own room and literary workshop is on the second floor of the house;
it is distinctively a study in white, and no place could be more ideal
for creative work. It has the cheeriest outlook from four windows with
a southern exposure, overlooking a broad grass plat studded with trees,
where birds from early dawn hold merry carnival, and squirrels find
perfect and unmolested freedom. A peep into this sanctum is a most
convincing proof that she is a woman who dearly loves order, as every
detail plainly indicates, and it is also noticeable that any display of
literary litter is most conspicuously absent.
Interesting souvenirs and gifts of infinite variety are scattered all
over the room, on the wainscoting, mantel, and in every available
niche; very many are from children and all are dainty tributes. A
picture of an irresistibly droll child face, of the African type and
infectiously full of mirth, is one of a great company of children who
look at you from every side and angle of the room.
Dainty old pieces of china, rare bits of bric-a-brac, the very broad
and old-time fireplaces filled with cut boughs of the spicy fir balsam,
and various antique pieces of furniture lend to the inner atmosphere of
Quillcote a fine artistic and colonial effect, while not a stone's
throw away, at the foot of a precipitous bank, flows--in a very
irregular channel--the picturesque Saco River.
In this summer home Mrs. Wiggin has the companionship of her mother,
and her sister, Miss Nora Smith, herself a writer, which renders it
easy to abandon herself wholly to her creative work; this coupled with
the fact that she is practically in seclusion banishes even a thought
of interruption.
And now, what was the beginning and the growth of the delightful
literary faculty, which has already given birth to so many pleasant
fancies and happy studies, especially of young life? A glimpse is
given in the following playful letter and postscript from herself and
her sister to a would-be biographer.
MY DEAR BOSWELL,--I have asked my family for some incidents of my
childhood, as you bade me,--soliciting any "anecdotes,"
"characteristics," or "early tendencies" that may have been, as you
suggest, "foreshadowings" of later things.
I have been much chagrined at the result. My younger sister states
that I was a nice, well-mannered, capable child, nothing more; and that
I never did anything nor said anything in any way remarkable. She
affirms that, so far from spending my childhood days in composition,
her principal recollection of me is that of a practical stirring little
person, clad in a linsey woolsey gown, eternally dragging a red and
brown sled called "The Artful Dodger." She adds that when called upon
to part with this sled, or commanded to stop sliding, I showed certain
characteristics that may perhaps have been "foreshadowings," but that
certainly were not engaging ones.
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