240 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 



Are stirring at its toiicli^ and birds are singing 

 As if to breathe were music ; and the grass 

 Sends up its modest odor with the dew. 

 Like the small tribute of humility/' 



In many meadows men were cutting grass, usually 

 with machines, but in a few stumpy lots of newly 

 cleared land they were still mowing it with the old- 

 fashioned scythes. It was pleasant to hear the swish as 

 the blade went through the wet grass, laying it in cool 

 swaths or little windrows. Occasionally a mower stop- 

 ped to sharpen the scythe with the long, glistening 

 whetstone, awakening rhythmical echoes in the neigh- 

 boring groves. All along we were regaled with the 

 delicious odors of the new mown hay. In one meadow 

 a barefooted boy with a straw hat, from which the rim 

 was gone, was violently whipping the ground with a 

 wisp of grass. Soon afterwards we saw him wipe his 

 hands on his pantaloons, and we knew that he had just 

 swallowed the delectable morsel which he had robbed 

 from the bumble-bees. 



Ithaca, at the head of Cayuga Lake, is a charming 

 village. We saw it to advantage from the top of the 

 high hill as we approached it from the west. It was 

 the quiet season at this noted seat of learning, as most 

 of the students were away on their vacation. There 

 was such a look of home comfort about the pretty 

 dwellings, well-kept lawns and shady streets, that one 

 could understand why it is such a favorite place for 

 3^oung men and women who like pleasing surroundings 

 as well as excellent educational advantages. 



