240 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
Are stirring at its touch, and birds are singing 
Asif to breathe were music; and the grass 
Sends up its modest odor with the dew, 
Like the small tribute of humility.” 
In many meadows men were cutting grass, usually 
with machines, but in a few stumpy lots of newly 
cleared land they were still mowing it with the old- 
fashioned scythes. It was pleasant to hear the swish as 
the blade went through the wet grass, laying it in cool 
swaths or little windrows. Occasionally a mower stop- 
ped to sharpen the scythe with the long, glistening 
whetstone, awakening rhythmical echoes in the neigh- 
boring groves. All along we were regaled with the 
delicious odors of the new mown hay. In one meadow 
a barefooted boy with a straw hat, from which the rim 
was gone, was violently whipping the ground with a 
wisp of grass. Soon afterwards we saw him wipe his 
hands on his pantaloons, and we knew that he had just 
swallowed the delectable morsel which he had robbed 
from the bumble-bees. 
Ithaca, at the head of Cayuga Lake, isa charming 
village. We saw it to advantage from the top of the 
high hill as we approached it from the west. It was 
the quiet season at this noted seat of learning, as most 
of the students were away on their vacation. There 
was such a look of home comfort about the pretty 
dwellings, well-kept lawns and shady streets, that one 
could understand why it is such a favorite place for 
young men and women who like pleasing surroundings 
as well as excellent educational advantages. 
