THE ROAD 



437 



road where one loses the view of the 

 highway ahead as it dips down into the 

 valley, only to rise with a narrowed 

 gauge on a further hill and the wood 

 road with its confluent paths and trails. 

 One of the strongest lures is the road 

 built at a time when it was easier to 

 go around or over a hill than through 

 it ; better to find a safe ford than to 

 plunge anywhere into the stream or 

 build a bridge. The highway which 

 goes straight from one point to another 

 is a scientist and not a poet. It may be 

 a fine servant, but as a friend and com- 

 panion give me the meandering road 

 with its constant surprises, its up-hill 



and down-dale, its sunshine and sha- 

 dow. One which may be seen a mile 

 ahead may be a fine speedway, but it is 

 not capable of arousing the imagina- 

 tion. 



When I walk over strange ways I 

 often pause at forks and choose the 

 least frequented one — it will be likely 

 to lead me into by-ways. Nature crowds 

 close to these old unfrequented roads 

 trying to lure them or force them back 

 to their native wildness. The hardy 

 flowers that can stand the wind and 

 sun love the roadside. The golden 

 milk weed makes these old highways 

 splendid in July, the lupines border the 



l:MM^ 



Wm^TON foUUx 



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How a chipmunk loves an old, tumble-down stone wall 



