A SUMMER DRIVE IN THE LAKE COUNTRY. 205 



We shall see orchards and meadows, flocks of sheep, 

 grazmg young cattle, and cows coming from pasture. 

 We shall hear the singing of birds, and in the newer 

 places, the rhythmical clinking of the scythe and whet- 

 stone. 



Our fourth day frojn home finds us less than fifty 

 miles from Buffalo. Although in July everything wears 

 the look of June. The fields were never fresher nor 

 the woods greener. The sweet elders are just beginning 

 to show their creamy white blossoms, and the tall tim- 

 othy is in its first purple bloom. The farmer may 

 worry about the late season and the backward corn, but 

 the travelers who were held in the city until July feel 

 grateful for the tardy appearance of the dry, sultry 

 days. Hardly had we left the pavements of the city 

 when the tinkhng notes of the bobolinks and the 

 liquid strains of the song sparrows fell gratefully on the 

 ear, a pleasant welcome to the country roads, while the 

 fragrance of the wild roses and the stronger scent of 

 the new mown hay were in pleasant contrast to the 

 odors of the cattle pens and rendering establishments 

 that we passed through at East Buffalo. The roads were 

 a little heavy, but the late rains had entirely laid the 

 dust, and the morning air was as pure and sweet as one 

 ever needs to breathe. Farmers were busy in the fields, 

 a few making hay, but more with plow and hoe were 

 coaxing their backward corn. Not many people were 

 on the road. A few couples of young folks were on 

 their way to the city to attend a celebration. Among 



JO 



