THE COUNTRY ROAD 115 



the June woodland, was merely tolerated, 

 while the baffled observer waited for the 

 leaves to be &quot;off&quot;! And all for the sake of 

 seeing what? A few lumber wagons, for 

 sooth, loaded with ties for the railway, a few 

 cows driven along morning and evening, a few 

 children trudging to and from school, the 

 postman s buggy on its daily rounds, twice a 

 week the meat cart, once a week the grocery 

 wagon, once a month the &quot;tea-man,&quot; and 

 now and then a neighbor s team on its way to 

 the feed-store or the blacksmith s shop down 

 at &quot;the Corners.&quot; 



For this, then, not for the beauty of the 

 winter landscape, but for this poor procession 

 of wayfarers, my neighbors waited with im 

 patience. If I could, I would have snatched 

 up their view bodily and carried it off with me, 

 back to my own farm for my own particular 

 delectation. It should never again have 

 shoved itself in their way. 



But since that time I have lived longer in 

 the country. If I have not made it my home 

 for all twelve months, I have dwelt in it from 

 early April to mid-December, and now, when I 

 think of my neighbor s remark, it is with grow- 



