63 THE COW 



Then too, there will come to him memories of 

 snowbound days and the sound of beating flails on 

 threshing floors and the thud of the loom and the 

 whining song of the spinning-wheel beside the 

 kitchen fire — for all these forgotten things were 

 on our farms within the retrospect of many living 

 men. 



And to the man from our corn-belt states will 

 come pictures of a fat and fertile land where the 

 sun comes up, not over wooded eastern hills, but 

 out of a sea of grain and runs his course and drops 

 down and is lost in corn-fields and meadows. 

 Boyhood memories to him will be of long straight 

 corn rows under August sun and the clack of the 

 grain-binder and the snarl and whine and boom of 

 the great steam threshing-machine and men going 

 back and forth across the fields to husk the com 

 when autumn frosts grow sharp. These he remem- 

 bers and many other things. And yet other men 

 whose happy fate it was to live in our fat Ontario 

 Shore country will see orchards flowery in May and 

 great heaps of red and russet apples beneath the 

 trees, glowing in October days, or will behold again 

 the gathering of purple grapes when the air is 

 heavy with the fragrance of the vine and the land 

 is full of joy, and for him these horticultural mem- 

 ories will be the best in life. But I am persuaded 

 that to no one else can come so many visions as to 

 the boy of the dairy farm. 



For I see an old red bam and beyond the bam 



