A MAY VISIT TO MOOSILATJKE 9 



spent, so much ploughing and harrowing, plant- 

 ing and reaping, now given up again to nature. 

 Here was the garden patch, its outlines still 

 traceable. Here was the well. Long lines of 

 stone wall still separate the mowing land from 

 the pasturage ; and scattered over the fields are 

 heaps of boulders, thrown together thus to get 

 them out of the grass's way. About the edges 

 of every pile, and sometimes through the midst, 

 have sprung up a few shrubs, shad bushes, 

 cherries, willows, and the like, Here they escape 

 the scythe, as we are all trying to do. " Give us 

 room that we may dwell ! " so these children 

 of Zion cry. It is the great want of seeds, so 

 many millions of which go to waste annually in 

 every acre, a place in which to take root and 

 (harder yet) to keep it. And the birds, too, find 

 the boulder heaps a convenience. I watch a sa- 

 vanna sparrow as he flits from one to another, 

 stopping to sing a measure or two from each. 

 Even this humble, almost voiceless artist needs 

 a stage or platform. The lowliest sparrow ever 

 hatched has some rudiments of a histrionic fac- 

 ulty ; and be we birds or humans, it is hard to 

 do one's best without a bit of posing. 



What further uses these humble stone heaps 

 may serve I cannot say ; no doubt they shelter 

 many insects ; but it is encouraging to consider 



