GREEN TRAILS AND 

 UPLAND PASTURES 



CHAPTER I 

 UPLAND PASTURES 



THERE are alluring names in the corner of the 

 world where I dwell, such as the Upper Meadow, Sky 

 Farm, and High Pasture. Is there not something 

 breeze-blown and spacious about the very words High 

 Pasture? You do not need a picture to bring the 

 image to your eye. Your image will not in the least 

 resemble our High Pasture, to be sure, but what does 

 that matter? You will see a greensward flung like a 

 mantle over the tall shoulder of a hill, the blue dome of 

 the sky dropping down behind it, and to the ear of mem- 

 ory will come the faint, lazy tinkle of a cow-bell. It is 

 the magic of the words which matters, not the realism 

 of the image. 



Our High Pasture is on the southern shoulder of 

 Rattlesnake Hill, and it is splendidly isolated from the 

 lowlands by forest. The forest marches down from the 



summit upon it and stops abruptly with an edge like a 



s 



