189 



raising ; then his neighbors could pursue their business without being 

 trammeled with the unjust and oppressive tax incurred for his benefit. 

 Who cannot see the injustice and wrong in the case supposed? And 

 who can dispute but that the case represents the true state of things? 

 A. has an undoubted rioht to choose stock raisinop as a means for alive- 

 lihood; provided, he takes care to keep his animals from devouring his 

 neighbor's crops, at his own ex|)ense ; and his neighbors ought to have 

 as good a right to raise their grain unmolested by his cattle, without 

 taxing themselves to build fences for his accommodation. 



There are other evils connected with our fencing system, which of them- 

 selves should be deemed sufficient reasons for abolishing it, were tha 

 advantages claimed for it two-fold greater than they are. 



One half of our troubles, as farmers, originate in some way, in con-- 

 nection with our fences, either directly or indirectly. 



In addition to the endless labor of building fences, gates, &c., the 

 peace and good order of neighborhoods is oftener disturbed by some inci- 

 dent connected with fences than from any other cause, and we are almost 

 compelled to acquiesce in a remark made by a certain writer that "it is 

 next to impossible to maintain peace and good will towards men, when 

 rail fences and stock ranges are in fashion." The cost of land wasted by 

 being occupied by fences, is of little consequence, compared with the 

 inconvenience resulting from the play grounds for noxious weeds and 

 bushes, afforded by the fence corners, besides being a harbor for rabbits 

 and other "vile vermin." They are also reservoirs for snow in winter 

 and rain in summer, and are ever distilling upon the adjacent lands their 

 cold and sour accumulations, so that nothing can attain a healthful growth 

 in their vicinity. 



They are excrescences in the eye of a lover of nature. To him, they 

 so mar and disfigure the landscape, that their utility would be more than 

 cancelled by their absence. 



In most parts of continental Europe, there are no fences. One may 

 travel day after day through beautiful fields bordering the road side, 

 the various farm crops having no other separation than the line marked 

 by the contrast, in color or kind, of the adjoining fields. The country 

 exhibits all the variety and breadth of a native prairie. But the travel- 

 ler in cultivated America finds himself continually hemmed in between 

 two walls of wood or stone, without space to look either to the right or 

 ]eft, and if perchance, he might obtain a birds-eye view of the world at 



