190 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



windows you catch a momentary glimpse of the brown 

 river and bending willows a pretty picture in a dusky 

 frame. After the road has crossed the bridge, it fol- 

 lows up the side of the river, rapidly leaving the village 

 behind, taking us toward the hills. 



How gracefully the road swings with the curves of the 

 stream, each bend ending one tree-shaded vista, and, 

 once it is passed, beginning another! The brown water 

 is visible always at our side, between the willows, the 

 white birches, the swaying alders that dip their twigs 

 into the rushing water in the Spring. The soil is moist 

 here, and tall meadow rue lines the road. Over the 

 wall and beyond the .fringe of trees on the opposite side 

 from the stream are level fields of hay or corn, rich bot- 

 tom lands with now and then stately vase elms marching 

 across them along the bank of some hidden swale once, 

 perhaps, the bed of the river. The farmhouses here are 

 prosperous, with big red barns, and the mail boxes are 

 nailed to painted posts close beside the sandy road, with 

 little red flags which are raised straight up in the morn- 

 ing, when mail is to be collected, as a signal to Tom. 

 Nor is there much gossip here when the carrier comes by. 

 The folk on these farms are too busy and, perhaps, 

 too near the village. It is a well-known law of physics 

 that roadside gossip varies directly with the distance 

 from town. 



It is when the road begins to leave the river bottom 

 and wind up the long hill toward the forested plateau 



