The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-09-03
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a Little sunset Talk.

Bless God for the country, the free go.
rious country The country with Is smooth
rolling fields, sweet with blossoming clover,
waving with grain, or shining with corn;
with its delightful woodlands, in whose leaiy
depths Nature hides such fairy hooks, Art
is ready to die of envy.
When the long summer day declines and
the shadows begin to gather in the valles
and along the eastern slopes of the hills,
and there is soft twittcring of the birds in
the naples and among the orchard trees,
sometimes | slip out Of the back door and
climb to the top of the ridge back of the
house, where there is the loveliest pine
grove imaginable, and where ones seat may
be of granite, upholstered with thckest moss
and shining pine needles, with the trunk of
gray old pine for back. And here one
may sit and watch the sun go down behind
the blue hills, may see the windows of u
score of farmhouses in blaze of glory
with his dying beams, and the mountain
tops far away bathed in purple haze.
The cows perhaps, will be feeding near
me, with their faces turned homeward rs
the shadows lengthen but stop n moment
long enough to look at me with II sort Of
mild curiosity as much as to say, ~ won
der what she wants. Then there is a moth
or horse with her baby beside her, who,
when the little fellow comes trcading dain-
tily along among the daisies and cverlast-
ings, as if ho were going to speak to me.
lifts her head suddenly and comes trotting
after him with a warning whining.
The field flowers come up to the wood
lands edge and some have crept in and nod
among the tall grasses under the pines
But they do not look at home so much in
the shadow, and somehow they seem less
CHEEKY and bright than in the open fields,
as if the low sad melodies of the pines had
lullcd them into forgetfulness of the gay
hum of the bees and the merry chirp of IL
cricket.
little farther in the shade there are
great tufts of waving, pluming ferns. There
are mounds covered with moss so rich and
deep, you may bury your whole hand among
ing vines, the twins. flower (thc common
name,-I like common namcs) and the pat
ridge berry, twining in and out over messy
boudcrs with infinite grace. There arr
decaying stumps and fallen trees, whose
very ruin has been glorified beneath the
kindly, loving touch of Natures hand.
Delicate MOSES hang to their sides. Ten
der, namcless little plants cluster about
them, peeping from their yawning cracks,
while graceful vines enclasp and unwreath
them and tiny gray lichens with scarlet
caps cluster along the spaces left them by
the vines.
While am thinking how beautiful all
these are, the landscape about me, the sun
set, the woods and their hidden treasures,
a wild tender MARBLE, from the throat of
some unseen songster, l think the wood
lark, has been echoing and re-echoing
ing iiicc' he iss1afg depths of the forest seem
and down at the foot of the hill in dump
of evergreens a whip-poor-will has struck
up his monotonous chant The bushes, II
few feet from me, are stirred suddenly as
by unseen fingers, and in a few moments,
almost as if by magic, three or four little
brown rabbits, happily unconscious of the
presence of an alien. begin the merriest
gambols over the brown shining sward.
Holding my breath, lest l make my pres
ence known and frighten the timid things
away, sit and watch them till wake to
the Inconsistencies that the "dew is fa'ing
DER the lea,' and the patient cows have
gone, and have been standing sometime AT
the barnyard gate. So gather an armful
of feathery ferns and rifle my old stump OF
some of its adornings and wend my way
thoughtfully homeward. Two small boys,
going home across lots eye me closely and
one remarks ere yet he has passed from my
hearing "I'll be darned if she haint got an
| armfn o. brakes ~ IN.