64 THE COW 



suckers, and these fishes years ago were the finny 

 leviathan of the deep. Then across the brook and 

 running up against the "mountain" to meet the 

 ■woodland are fidfty acres of pasture — a land of trees 

 and rocks and little ravines and old stone walls 

 mostly fallen down. Here the cattle of Hillside 

 Farm have come to pasture for all its history and 

 may, I hope, for generations yet to come. Always 

 in the speech of our farm it has been designated 

 as "across the creek," meaning thereby a region — 

 and always for me it was an enchanted land. Is 

 it not a priceless heritage for a boy to have the 

 privilege when the sun is low, of going through 

 scenes like these — to climb the hill and call the 

 cows and send them splashing through the brook 

 and then on up through the grove and lane and 

 orchard and to the bam, and after milking to take 

 them back again and leave them keeping watch 

 under the stars? On such things as these was my 

 boyhood fed and my little clear-eyed son also knew 

 all these enchantments. 



You may not judge a farm or determine its value 

 by the familiar standards of acreage or fertility 

 or topography or access to markets. You may not 

 reckon its desirability even by the social charac- 

 ter of the rural community of which it is a part. 

 Three things there are which must go to make up 

 my dream-farm. First, it must be a place where 

 there are animals as well as crops, for the greatest 

 interest in country life can come only from breath- 



