196 Bees and Buckwheat 



in hand with decay. The older such a fence, 

 the better ; when merely a support for Vir- 

 ginia creeper or the rank trumpet-vine, it is 

 worthy the rambler's regard. Wild life long 

 ago learned what a safe snug-harbor such 

 ruined fences offer. It puzzles even a mink 

 to thread their mazes, and the shy rabbit that 

 has its form" in a brier-hidden hollow of 

 the crooked line feels that it is safe. 



There are traces of these old fences of 

 which no record remains, placed perhaps by 

 the very earliest settler in a traft that he had 

 cleared and which has since gone back to an 

 almost primitive state. In an old woodland 

 I once traced a fence by the long line of cy- 

 pripediums in bloom, which were thriving in 

 the mould of decayed fence-rails, a pretty if 

 not permanent monument to departed worth. 



A word more of these old fences in winter. 

 When the snow beats across the field, it stops 

 here and gracefully curves above it, arching 

 the rails and vines until all is hidden, unless 

 it be some lonely projedling stake, by which 

 alone it communicates with the outside world. 

 I rashly attempted once to go across-lots over 

 a new country, and made a discovery. The 

 snow-bound fence was but a drift, I thought. 



