Hay Days and Meadow Larks 



pared with dragging a big gang plow 

 through stiff clay, and they are stand- 

 ing in the midst of plenty, with a 

 fragrance in their nostrils that French 

 perfume-makers have tried in vain for 

 years to reproduce — the scent of new- 

 mown hay. 



[49I 



