A Parable of the Trail 



Under the blistering heat of the summer's sun they threw 

 on it a calm and cooling shade. And when the freezing 

 breath of the blinding blizzard blew far and wide the frost 

 and snow, these faithful grasses spread their blankets of 

 faded leaves over their old and trusted friend. The trail's 

 destiny was all in the dust, but it was loyal in serving all 

 kinds of travelers. Often the bewildered wayfarer would 

 have wandered, but the trusty trail held him to the right, 

 leading between the breaks where cattle dozed and dreamed. 



Once, for many months, a part of the trail was unused 

 by travelers. During these days of loneliness some invisible 

 weaver of the air wove a beautiful robe and silently laid it 

 over the wounds of the slumbering trail. On this cover were 

 pinned in the early days of spring the anemone and the buff 

 baptisia. The warm hands 

 of summer sprinkled it over 

 with blossom-balls of the sen- 

 sitive rose. And when au- 

 tumn winds sighed their sor- 

 row over the lonely sleeper 

 under the grass, the sun with 

 his needles of light sewed on 

 the slumberer's mantle gold- 

 enrod and many - flowered 

 aster. Many of the smaller 

 furred and feathered folk of 

 the prairie hid them under 



this blanket of bloom from the hungry hawk and the swift- 

 footed hound. 



This grass-grown way across the prairie is still untraveled 

 by the feet of men, but it symbols the most unselfish service. 



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