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NATURE FOE ITS OWN SAKE 



wheat, the reddish hue of the ripened corn, the 

 waving greens of the barley, oats, and wheat 

 upon the hill-sides, are mere patches of local 

 color, but they add greatly to the landscape ; 

 and where the "bright yellow of ripe wheat is seen 

 in vast masses, it is very impressive. The 

 wheat-fields of Dakota and Minnesota, where 

 once forty and fifty thousand acres of grain 

 stood in unbroken reach from horizon to hori- 

 zon, were almost as sublime as the ocean, and 

 grander far in light and color than the tall grass 

 of the prairies. Yet one can never escape the 

 feeling that this is nature under the lash 

 nature more for man's sake than for her own 

 sake. Her efforts are cramped to utility. The 

 product is not what would be grown, but what 

 must be grown. One cannot help feeling in the 

 same way about the cultivated shrubs upon the 

 lawn, and the flowers that grow in the Persian- 

 carpet beds, the ugly little road-borders, and 

 the glass houses. Beautiful they are, but their 

 flush is hectic and they smell of the perfumery 

 shop. They are nature's frailer children, and 

 have not the vitality nor the wild, untamed 

 beauty of the flowers growing on the meadows 

 and the prairie. 

 And lastly, the smallest and the humblest of 



