260 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



early days when forests enclosed the scattered fields, not 

 fields that surrounded mere remnants of the forest. 



I do not know whether any of the original rails are 

 still remaining, probably not ; but a fence of this rude 

 pattern has been here for two centuries, and portions of 

 it have every appearance of long antedating the very 

 oldest inhabitant. Many a rail can be found that is no 

 longer an obstacle to man or beast. Indeed, some of 

 them depend for their very existence upon the aid of 

 the dense growths that uphold them. One giant sassa- 

 fras has actually incorporated a portion of a sturdy ce- 

 dar rail, which, if removed, would leave a hole directly 

 through the trunk of the tree. 



To the few remaining old worm -fences, then, the 

 thanks of the rambler are due for many favors ; for 

 where else than in the densely overgrown headlands that 

 divide onr fields could many a creature find so safe a 

 retreat in a neighborhood like this ? It takes the place 

 of extensive forests, of trackless swamps, of immovable 

 rocks. Let the rambler be patient, then, when such a 

 worm-fence crosses his path. Let him stop and study 

 it, panel by panel, unless abroad upon some special er- 

 rand. 



Here he is surest, perhaps, of meeting with weasels, 

 if they are abroad by day ; nor let hirn be too bold if 

 there be a number of them. They well know that in 

 union there is strength, and it is no unusual occurrence 

 for them to show fight at such a time ; and no creat- 

 ure can bite more savagely, or aim for vital spots more 

 surely. 



The weasel's distant cousin, the skunk, is also a lover 



