THE GRAVEL PIT 



all sides, and every time we looked it seemed more hideous. Half 

 a dozen stumps partly submerged, struggled to put forth a bit of 

 greenness. All about the high banks, big trees gazed pityingly 

 down upon the desolation below, half bending over as if in an 

 attempt to cover its unkempt state. Here huge thistles towered, 

 the ragweed flourished, and the burdock grew six feet in height; 

 long blackberry branches clambered and twisted, and the plantain, 

 ever faithful, industriously struggled to cover as much as possible 

 of the rudely disturbed soil. Nature, if left alone, would in twenty 

 years, possibly in ten, have made this an attractive spot; why not 

 examine her methods, find out what she would do, see how she 

 does it, and try it ourselves at once ? The Constant Improver was 

 charmed with the idea. 



We spent many days in preliminary study and at length decided 

 on our plan of work. First, tile had to be put in so that there 

 might be no stagnant water. The whole bottom with the ap- 

 proaches at each end was ploughed up, and the land graded in a 

 gentle sweep. We watched with deepest interest the scrapers 

 transferring the soil from one part of the pit to another. We ad- 

 mired the strong horses tugging at the call of the men. " Git-dap, 

 Maud!" one would cry and the feminine leader would respond 

 nobly, bending her utmost energies to the task. Over and over 

 again, backward and forward, went the horses and the shovels. 

 It was many a day before the ugly old rutty road became a soft 



hollow, thick with green clover, and bordered with brakes and 



129 



