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FROM LONDON TO NEW YORK. 205 



nign land. The weather was fair ; I was yoked to 

 no companion, and was apparently the only tourist on 

 that route. The field occupations drew my eye as 

 usual. They were very simple, and consisted mainly of 

 the gathering of root crops. I saw no building of 

 fences, or of houses or barns, and no draining or im- 

 proving of any kind worth mentioning, these things 

 having all been done long ago. Speaking of barns re- 

 minds me that I do not remember to have seen a build- 

 ing of this kind while in England, much less a group 

 or cluster of them as at home, hay and grain being 

 always stacked, and the mildness of the climate ren- 

 dering a protection of this kind unnecessary for the 

 cattle and sheep. In contrast, America may be called 

 the country of barns and outbuildings : 



" Thou lucky Mistress of the tranquil barns," 



as Walt Whitman apostrophizes the Union. 



I missed also many familiar features in the autumn 

 fields — those given to our landscape by Indian corn, 

 for instance, the tent-like stouts, the shucks, the rus- 

 tling blades, the ripe pumpkins strewing the field ; for 

 notwithstanding England is such a garden our corn 

 does not flourish there. I saw no buckwheat either, 

 the red stubble and little squat figures of the upright 

 sheaves of which are so noticeable in our farming dis- 

 tricts at this season. Neither did I see any gathering 

 of apples, or orchards from which to gather them. 

 " As sure as there are apples in Herefordshire," seems 



