The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1882-06-15
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THE OLD RAIL FENCE.

THE OLD RAIL FENCE.
l. am told by foreign tourists that,
while many of our fences are reelected
in those of other lands, the counterpart
of the zigzag fence is to be seen in no
other country. 1t is typical of Yankee
land. 49,. .r.-
1t is known as the snake or Virginia
fence, and as the relic of lavish era of
unlimited forestry. History does not
chronicle the name of its inventor, but I
have long since learned to cherish pro-
found respect for the memory of this un-
known individual. 1t is hard for me to
imagine. in the person of this primitive
railsplitter the picture of, an untutored
backwoodsman, and never follow the
course of one of these fences without
feeling that its original builder must
have seen his work through eyes artistic
as well as practical.
The careless abandon of its lines-a
repetition of form in which absolute
repetition is continually defied by the
capricious conyolution of the grain, for
there are no two rails made in the same
mold-a their gray satiny sheen, their
weather beaten stains of moss and ich-
en-, and the ever changing play of lights
and shadows from their waving weeds
and vines, make the old rail fence truly
an object of real beauty in our land
scape. Often have fingered in its an
giles, and hundred times have thought
of the host of pictures and "reminiscences
which might fill a book to the glory of q
fence corner. 81"
Moreover, this popularity of confor-
nation panders to a most worthy and
blessed shiftlessness happily latent in
the bones of almost every farmer !; for
while the plowshare creeps close along
the base of the old stone wall, and the
| direct course of most other fences offers
a free scope for the mowers scythe or
the reaper's blade, the outward corners
of the zigzag fence dodge beyond its
reach, and thus escape. How often,
too, are these recesses the convenient
storage quarters for the stones and
stubble of the field, and as such receive
a wide berth from the newly whetted
scythe or cradle. as @ .i
| Thus does the old rail fence bedeck
itself abundantly with wreaths and gar
lands. The refuse stone piles clothe
themselves in tangles of creeping dew
berry, cinque-foil and ground-ivy, and
the round leaves of the creeping mallows
conspire to hide their nakedness. Tall
brambles rise and yield their snowy
blossoms to the rifling bees, or later
hang their purple fruit in tempting
clusters to the troop of boys in their
eager scramble among the rails. There
are no black raspberries SO large and
luscious, no hazel nuts so full and brown,
and no filberts SO tantalizing beneath
their prickly pods, as those that grow
up under the protection of the old rail
fence. Here the rich green beds OF
sweet fern give out their aromatic SAVIOR
to the wise old simpler, the eager small
boy, or even to the squirrel in quest OF
the nutty kernels among its seed bobs.
The dull red blossoms of the glycine tell
of sweet tubers beneath the ground, and
the bright sunfowers of tall artichokes
| invite the old time search among their
roots.
Here in these sheltered angles the
eddying November winds hurl their fly.
ing leaves, and heap the glory Of the
autumn present upon the matted mold
of many autumns past. Later, the
whistling gales of winter whirl about
its corners. Clouds of drifting snow
bedim the evergreens, and drive along
the meadow, battling with the army Of
tall, gaunt mulleins and red-capped
sumacs, and at last are whirled along
these weather. beaten timbers, where
fantastic-pealked Alps arise, and over.
hanging, glistening cliffs hem in the
rambling rails in great blue-shadowe6
crescents white and dazzling.
Here, too, the icy air shall ring with
the shouts of those same voices that are
known so we'll by the rural fence through
every month and season, with their rol
licking testimonies of wild-fow par
ties and squirrel hunts and nutting ex
ploits.- William Hamilton Gibson, IN
HurDer's Magazine.