Songs of the Fields 



three, and again four parts, each containing a small 

 oblong seed. The elegant vines cover fences, trees, 

 climb poles, and spread over bushes all along the 

 road. The berries retain their brilliant color dur- 

 ing winter, so that on gray days they lighten the 

 gloom, and on white ones they contrast with a bril- 

 liancy that is equaled only by the scarlet heads of 

 the mountain ash. 



Such pictures and music are the natural ac- 

 companiment of the old snake-fences. Whenever 

 I come into country abounding in them my heart The 

 always begins softly to sing, "Praise the Lord!" Music 

 For where these old fences are replaced by wire 

 the farmers always make a clean sweep to the road- 

 side, and not the ghost of a picture or the echo 

 of a song is left to me. There are times when my 

 disappointment is so great it is difficult to avoid a 

 feeling of childish resentment. Sometimes I stop 

 my horse and attempt to preach timber conserva- 

 tion and the laws of attraction as applied to mois- 

 ture; but what has a passing woman to tell a lord 

 of creation busily improving his field? He is pro- 

 viding a few more feet of space for corn and po- 

 tatoes and enlarging his egotism over greater per- 

 sonal possessions. I notice that in making a field 

 most men exhibit a sense of creation. It is where 

 their work is made manifest. Yes, even to a 

 greater degree than they realize, for sometimes 

 when they arrogantly dismiss me and my theories 

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