OLD BOATS 219 



f erred the life of cities; that the dreary tenement under 

 factory grime, with a "movie" theatre around the 

 corner, is an acceptable substitute to them for the ample 

 fireplaces, the fanlight door, the rolling fields and road- 

 side brook. We hear much discussion in New England 

 to-day of "how to keep the young folks on the farm." 

 But why should they stay on the farm, to toil and starve, 

 in body and mind? We have so organized our whole 

 society on a competitive commercial basis that they 

 can now do nothing else. Those ancient apple trees be- 

 side the ruined house once grew fruit superior in taste to 

 any apple which ever came from Hood River or Wenat- 

 chee, and could grow it again; but greed has determined 

 that our cities shall pay five cents apiece for the showy 

 western product, and the small individual grower of the 

 East is helpless. We have raised individualism to a 

 creed, and killed the individual. We have exalted 

 "business," and depopulated our farms. The old gray 

 ruin on the back road to Monterey is an epitome of our 

 history for a hundred years. 



But to pursue such reflections too curiously would 

 take our mind from the road, our eyes from the wild 

 flower gardens lining the way the banks of blueberries 

 fragrant in the sun, the stately borders of meadow rue 

 where the grassy track dips down through a moist hol- 

 low. And to pursue such reflections too curiously 

 would take us far afield from the spot we planned to 

 reach when we took up our pen for this particular 



