At first the houses they passed had a dark and deserted look; then a
light twinkled here and there. The early habitant was making his fire.
As daylight began gradually to bring out the landscape, the sharp sound
of the distant axe was heard. The early habitant was laying in his day's
supply of firewood.

"Do you notice how the dawn slowly materialises the landscape?" said the
artist to the boy beside him.

The boy saw nothing wonderful about that. Daylight always did it.

"Then it is not unusual in these parts? You see, I am very seldom up at
this hour."

The boy wished that was his case.

"Does it not remind you of a photographer in a dark room carefully
developing a landscape plate? Not one of those rapid plates, you know,
but a slow, deliberate plate."

No, it didn't remind him of anything of the kind. He had never seen
either a slow or a rapid plate developed.

"Then you have no prejudices as to which is the best developer,
pyrogallic acid or ferrous oxalate, not to mention such recent
decoctions as eikonogen, quinol, and others?"

No, the boy had none.