84 IN THE WOOD LOT. 



necting the lonely homestead with the rest of the 

 human world, had on one side a beautiful border 

 of all sorts of greeneries, just as Nature, with 

 her inimitable touch, had placed them. It was a 

 home and a cover for small birds ; it was a shade 

 on a warm day ; it was a delight to the eye at 

 all times. Yet in the farmer's eye it was "shift- 

 less " (the New Englander's bogy). The other 

 side of the road he had "improved; " it gloried 

 in what lo/)ked at a little distance like a single- 

 file procession of glaring new posts, which on 

 approaching were found to be the supports of 

 one of man's neighborly devices — barbed wire. 

 Eejoicing in this work of his hands on the left, 

 he longed to turn his murderous weapons against 

 the right side. He was labored with; he bided 

 his time ; but I knew in my heart that whoever 

 went there next summer would find that pictur- 

 esque road bristling with barbed wire on both 

 sides. It will be as ugly as man can make it, 

 but it wiU be "tidy" (New England's shibbo- 

 leth), for no sweet green thing will grow up be- 

 side it. Nature does n't take kindly to barbed 

 wire. 



The old stone wall at that time was an irresist- 

 ible invitation to the riotous luxuriance of vines. 

 Elder - bushes, with their fine cream - colored 

 blossoms, hung lovingly over it; blackberry 

 bushes, lovely from their snowy flowering to 



