282 



NATURE FOB ITS OWN SAKE 



of a covering, just as it heals an abrasion of 

 skin on the human hand. The Indian trail, 

 the bridle-path, even the track of the plough, are 

 soon covered over and hidden by the creeping, 

 weaving, intertwining grasses. The fields and 

 meadows, where now the herbage grows thick 

 and cattle graze, were perhaps but a few years 

 ago sown with wheat and have only lately been 

 allowed to "run to grass." The roots soon 

 knit together and make a sod that rain does not 

 wash and the stamp of many feet does not wear 



And here in the meadow the grass grows 

 rank, the buttercup spreads its yellow petals, 

 the daisy and the dandelion flourish, and the 

 wild violet springs up in little beds. Very 

 commonplace is the ten-acre pasture, with its 

 small knolls, its tufts of tall grass, its smooth- 

 cropped interspaces, its wild-flowers, and its 

 ivy-wound fence of stone ; yet in this patched 

 irregularity there is a whole world of loveli- 

 ness. The quaint lines, the warmth and glow 

 of color, and, above all, the broad area of sun- 

 light, affect one emotionally. Take any man 

 from the bustle of the city and place him there 

 and he will instinctively breathe deeper, and 

 though he may say little, yet be sure he is 



