"[...]words, coming from Lyman Gilman, meant more and expressed more than many a large and ambitious springtime song. But the glory of all the slumbrous landscape, the stately beauty of the sky with its masses of fleecy vapor, were swept away by the sound of a girl's voice humming, "Come to the Saviour," while she bustled about the kitchen near by. The windows were open. Ah! what suggestion to these dwellers in a rigorous climate was in the first unsealing of the windows! How sweet it was to the pale and weary women after their long imprisonment! As Lyman sat down on his maple log to hear better, a plump face appeared at the window, and a clear, girl-voice said: - "Smell anything, Lime?"[...]."