And after sound sleep, waking in the rosy morning, with the fresh air from balmy fields blowing into your window, penetrated still with the afflatus of last night's thoughts and reveries, wouldn't you be cheerful? Wouldn't the unity of all things come to you, and wouldn't you chirrup like a bird, and buzz like a bee, and turn imaginary somersaults and dance and sing, and feel like cutting up "didoes," and talk a little high strung, and be chipper with the lowliest and level with the highest? Wouldn't your heart flow over with ever so much love and gratitude? Wouldn't it infuse so much spirit into your poor, weak life that your words would sparkle with cheeriness, frolic and wit? I believe so! I know so! Such was to me the secret of the fun, wit and frolic of the Brook Farmers. The jokes were, it is true, largely superficial, but they were inseparable from the position. The bottom fact was, _the associates there were leading a just life_, and could go to their labor, hard beds and simple fare--down to plain bread and sometimes mythical butter--with cheerfulness just in proportion as they were penetrated by these great ideas. They could make merry with their friends over a cup of coffee, and sought not the stimulants that college days and college habits might have allowed. It was with one of our little social groups of friends, that Mr. Dwight gave the toast, "Here's to the coffeepot! If it is not _spiritual_, it's not _material_!" There was a gentleman who resided with us who had promised, on a certain day, to assist a department of our industry with a loan of cash, and had taken the light wagon to Boston for the purpose of securing the funds and bringing them home for use. Somewhere about nine o'clock in the evening the dwellers at the "Hive" were disturbed by the approach of a team and the groans of a person. Going out, they discovered that it was our team, and our member, who had apparently fallen into the back part of the wagon in a helpless state. They assisted him out and conveyed him to his chamber. He did not seem to be much hurt; but he stated that in passing through the little patch of woods on the "back road," some one came out and knocked him off his seat and then robbed him. He had lain in the wagon, unable to rise, and the horse had come home of his own accord. This is the outline of the story. Parties went out on the road with lanterns, but found no lost pocket-book. The news of the robbery spread. It was the common talk the next day. There were suspicious circumstances. It might have been a _ruse_ to cover a personal loss of the money, or to deceive us in the pretended loan. Who could tell?