934 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
bass singer in the insect choir. The sweet clover, form- 
erly cultivated in gardens for its perfume, has now 
taken possession of hundreds of miles of roadsides, 
where it not only beautifies these waste places, but sheds 
a delightful aroma for all who travel these favored 
thoroughfares. The old bed of the abandoned Genesee 
Valley Canal is a wilderness of this handsome and fra- 
grant plant, which is now placed among the weeds, far 
more interesting and useful in this vagabond life than 
when petted in the garden. 
In ascending and descending steep hills, Bess has had 
a new experience on this journey. The driving with 
her heretofore has been about the city or neighboring 
level country. She knew nothing about holding back, 
and the first steep hill that we had to descend tried 
severely her faith, and a little her patience. As the 
carriage began to crowd, she wavered a minute, looked 
back inquiringly, and almost beseechingly, and then 
stopped. I alighted, patted her neck a minute, and step- 
ping in front of her, said, “Come along, Bess.” The fear 
was all gone. She needed no rein, but followed along 
slowly and carefully, every little while putting her nose 
on my shoulder, perfectly confident that all was right. 
She has now learned to zigzag across the roads up and 
down hills, as all teams do, down the steeps at Mount 
Royal, Montreal. The first time she did this of her 
own accord, Anemone, watching her admiringly, said, 
“ Papa, Lade must have a great many thinks in her head 
to be so cunning.” Our drive to Liberty was over a roll- 
ing country, thence through a pleasant valley to Avoca, 
