New Walks in Old Ways 



a dull-edged iron which is not a good 

 substitute for a scythe in actual hay- 

 making; but you will also be bringing 

 secret joy again to your caddy, as well 

 as to the fellow whose main object in 

 life just at the moment is to win that 

 game from you. The boy is pleased 

 because out there he is likely to flush 

 some little creature wearing either fur 

 or feathers, and your adversary ap- 

 proves of your futile "chopping" at 

 your deeply-imbedded ball for obvious 

 reasons of his own. 



Now, I have watched this little 

 Cottonwood for many years. It stands 

 there alone; no other tree near it. It 

 was planted there one day, now long 

 ago, by the wind and the rain. The 

 breeze carried the white-winged seed 

 across the open spaces from some big 

 parent cottonwood far away. The rain 

 so saturated its dainty sails, supplied 

 by nature for just such flights, that it 

 could wander no further. It had 

 reached its predestined resting place; 

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