Music of the Wild 



worthless commercially, but at times they bear 

 fruit that can be used for cider at least; so their 

 Old Or- lives are spared. In some of these orchards the 

 chards cabin of tne father or grandfather who first wres- 

 tled with the forest yet stands. In many of them 

 the home has fallen to decay or been torn down 

 for firewood, but the apple trees remain even in 

 plowed fields and amidst growing grain. These 

 trees are monuments to a deeply-rooted objection 

 to cutting a fruit tree, in spite of the fact that 

 they produce small, sour, blighted, and wormy 

 apples. 



Almost without exception the old snake-fences 

 surround them, weighted with loads of growing 

 shrubs and vines, and on and under them home 

 field mice, moles, rabbits, chipmunks, lizards, birds 

 of low habit, night moths, and bugs and insects of 

 innumerable species. The grass grows long, rank, 

 and so silken fine it is delightful to lie and thread 

 it through the fingers, and recite those exquisite 

 lines of Walt Whitman's, 



I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, 

 Out of hopeful green stuff woven." 



Nearly all the old orchards are on the highest 

 spot of a farm and near the center of the land. 

 These pioneers had the English plan of an estate, 

 with the residence in the middle, away from the 

 annoyance of travel and the dust of the highway. 

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