NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
Earth- 
protecting 
grasses. 
Bfeadow and 
pasture. 
of a covering, just as it heals an abrasion of 
skin on the human hand. The Indian trail, 
the bridle-path, even the track of the plough, are 
soon covered over and hidden by the creeping, 
weaving, intertwining grasses. ‘The fields and 
meadows, where now the herbage grows thick 
and cattle graze, were perhaps but a few years 
ago sown with wheat and have only lately been 
allowed to ‘‘run to grass.” The roots soon 
knit together and make a sod that rain does not 
wash and the stamp of many feet does not wear 
away. 
And here in the meadow the grass grows 
rank, the buttercup spreads its yellow petals, 
the daisy and the dandelion flourish, and the 
wild violet springs up in little beds. Very 
commonplace is the ten-acre pasture, with its 
small knolls, its tufts of tall grass, its smooth- 
cropped interspaces, its wild-flowers, and its 
ivy-wound fence of stone; yet in this patched 
irregularity there is a whole world of loveli- 
ness. The quaint lines, the warmth and glow 
of color, and, above all, the broad area of sun- 
light, affect one emotionally. Take any man 
from the bustle of the city and place him there 
and he will instinctively breathe deeper, and 
though he may say little, yet be sure he is 
