Howard Pyle, a chronicle by Charles D. Abbott, with an introduction by N. C. Wyeth and many illustrations from Howard Pyle's works.

HOWARD PYLE: A CHRONICLE
gravelled walks edged with box, and a greenhouse of
shining glass at the lower end of the garden. And there
was a wooden summer-house at the end of one of the gravel
walks, and altogether it was such a garden as you would
hardly find outside of a story book. It seems to me that
when I think of that garden I cannot remember anything
but bloom and beauty, air filled with the odor of growing
things, and birds singing in the shady trees in such a fashion
as they do not sing nowadays..00)
Even in these very early days, Howard was beginning
to show signs of the interest which was later to develop into
his profession. He tells a quaint little story of himself,
showing how his mother's influence and the spirit of the
household were already at work.
There was a great rock by the garden wall where
there were ferns and ivy. I remember one time-I think
it was springtime, and I know that the afternoon sun was
bright and warm-I was inspired to write a poem. My
mother gave me some gilt-edged paper and a lead pencil,
and I went out to this rock where I might be alone with
my inspiration and purpose. It was not until I had wet my
pencil point in my mouth, and was ready to begin my composition, that I realized that I was 'not able to read or
write. I shall never forget how helpless and impotent
I felt. 0.0*. ))
But these days of idyllic beauty could not last. The finan.cial affairs of the family were suffering, as did those of so
many families at the time, from the effects of the war on
"1 When I Was a Little Boy," Woman's Home Companion, April, 19 12,
Vol. xxxix, p. S.
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