SUMMER IN A BOG. 39 



Nor would I plough up the thin soil of such 

 steep hills, to have it washed away in the rains. 

 Fruit trees flourish in localities of this sort, 

 and orchard grass will bind the sands, while 

 furnishing a luxuriant growth of herbage. 

 Gather the stones, which ill-advised ploughing 

 has brought to the top, and cast them into the 

 deep gullies on the hillsides; then coax a coat 

 of grass over the poor, denuded surface of the 

 hill. A few years of good crops will never com- 

 pensate for the stony desert which results from 

 continued ploughing. 



The tenant had something to tell of a heifer 

 which had been "buckeyed." The animal had 

 been experimenting with foodstuffs, evidently, 

 and had eaten too liberally of the Ohio buckeye, 

 which grows plentifully along the slopes of the 

 hills. At least this was his diagnosis of the 

 ailment which sent the beast moping to the 

 shade of the woods, where it remained, without 

 appetite, for a number of days, but finally re- 

 covered. 



Eetuming, plodding steadily along on the 

 side of the road is a woman. She is short and 

 broad, dressed in a clean, faded gown of calico 

 which once was pink. It is carefully starched, 

 and sits out in stiff lines about her stout figure. 

 A gingham sunbonnet discreetly shades her 



