by
This book is not wholly new, several of the chapters having already beenpublished in the "Atlantic Monthly." It has so often been asked ifDeephaven may not be found on the map of New England under another name,that, to prevent any misunderstanding, I wish to say, while there is alikeness to be traced, few of the sketches are drawn from that townitself, and the characters will in almost every case be looked for therein vain.
I dedicate this story of out-of-door life and country people first to myfather and mother, my two best friends, and also to all my otherfriends, whose names I say to myself lovingly, though I do not writethem here.
S. O. J.
I had been spending the winter in Boston, and Kate Lancaster and I hadbeen together a great deal, for we are the best of friends. It happenedthat the morning when this story begins I had waked up feeling sorry,and as if something dreadful were going to happen. There did not seem tobe any good reason for it, so I undertook to discourage myself more bythinking that it would soon be time to leave town, and how much I shouldmiss being with Kate and my other friends. My mind was still disquietedwhen I went down to breakfast; but beside my plate I found, with ahoped-for letter from my father, a note from Kate. To this day I havenever known