84 IN THE WOOD LOT. 



necting the lonely homestead with the rest of the 

 human world, had on one side a beautiful border 

 of all sorts of greeneries, just as Nature, with 

 her inimitable touch, had placed them. It was a 

 home and a cover for small birds ; it was a shade 

 on a warm day ; it was a delight to the eye at 

 all times. Yet in the farmer's eye it was "shift- 

 less " (the New Englander's bogy). The other 

 side of the road he had "improved; " it gloried 

 in what looked at a little distance like a single- 

 file procession of glaring new posts, which on 

 approaching were found to be the supports of 

 one of man's neighborly devices barbed wire. 

 Rejoicing in this work of his hands on the left, 

 he longed to turn his murderous weapons against 

 the right side. He was labored with; he bided 

 his time ; but I knew in my heart that whoever 

 went there next summer would find that pictur- 

 esque road bristling with barbed wire on both 

 sides. It will be as ugly as man can make it, 

 but it will be "tidy" (New England's shibbo- 

 leth), for no sweet green thing will grow up be- 

 side it. Nature does n't take kindly to barbed 

 wire. 



The old stone wall at that time was an irresist- 

 ible invitation to the riotous luxuriance of vines. 

 Elder - bushes, with their fine cream - colored 

 blossoms, hung lovingly over it; blackberry 

 bushes, lovely from their snowy flowering to 



