WAYLAYING THE DAWN 



1 HE most beautiful place which can 

 be found on earth of a June morning is 

 a New England pasture, and fortunate 

 are we New Englanders who love the 

 open in the fact that, whatever town or 

 city may be our home, the old-time pas- 

 tures lie still at our very doors. 



The way to the one that I know best 

 lies through the yard of an old, old 

 house, a yard that stands hospitably al- 

 ways open. It swings along by the an- 

 cient barn and turns a right angle by a 

 worn-out field. Then you enter an old 

 lane leading to what has been for more 

 than a century a cow pasture. Here the 

 close-cropped turf is like a lawn between 

 the gray and mossy old stone fences that 

 3 



