The Osceola times., 1882-05-27
The Old Rail Fence.
W. II. Gibson In Harper's Magazine.

/ am told by foreign tourists that
while many of our fences are reflected in
those of other lands, the counterpart of
the zigzag fence is to be seen in no other
country. 1t is typical of Yankeeland.
1t is known as the snake or Virginia
fence, and is the relic OF a lavish era of
unlimited forestry. History does not
chronicle the name ofits inventor, but l
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
rail-splitter the picture of an untutored
lack woodsman, and never follow the
course of one of these fences without
feeling a certain consciousness that its
original builder must have seen his work
through eyes artistic as well as practi-
cal.
The careless abandon of its lines-a
repetition of form in which absolute re-
petition is continually defed by the ca
PRECIOUS convolution of the grain, for
there are no two rails made in the same
mould-and their gray satiny sheen,
their weather-beaten stains Of moss and
lichen and the ever.chaneing play of
lights and shadows from their waving
reeds and vines make the old rail fence
truly an object of real beauty in our
landscape. Often have fingered iu its
angles, and hundred times have i
thought of the hosts ofpictures and rem
inscences which might fill a book to the
glory of fence corner.
Moreover, this popularity Of conforma.
ton panders to a most worthy and
al ah; lot N
the bones of almost every farmer; for
while the ploughshare creeps close along
the base OF the old stone wall, and the
direct course Of most other fences offers
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 era
die.
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-fou 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 rifllng bees, or later
hang their purple fruit in tempting clus.
ters to the troop of bows in their eager
scramble among the rails. There are no
black raspberres 80 large and luscious,
no hazel nuts 80 full and brown and no
filberts so tantalizing beneath their prick
1xr, de- hot ha
protection of the old rail fence. Here the
rich green beds Of sweet feru give out
their aromatic SAVIOR to the wise old SIM
per, the eager small boy, or even to the
squirrel in quest of the nutty kernels
among its seed beds. The dull red bios
SONS of the glycine tell of sweet tubers
beneath the ground. and the bright sun
flowers of tall artichokes invite the old
time search among their roots.
Here in these sheltered angles the ed
dying November winds hurl their flying
leaves, and heap the glory of the autumn
present upon the matted mould Of many
autumns past. Later, the whisting 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 whether-beaten tim
bers where fantastic peaked Alps arise,
and overhanging, glistening cliffs hem in
the rambling rails IN great blue shadowed
crescents white and dazzling.
Here. too, the icy air shall ring with
the shouts of those same voices that are
known so well by the rural fence through
every month and season. with their roll
licking testimonies of wild flower par.
ties aud squirrel hunts and nutting ex-
ploits.