Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1882-04-22
The Old Rail Fence.
William Hami ton Gibson, in Harper
Magazine for May.

ed IN those OF other landS, the couH
terpart of the zigzag fence is to be
seen in no other country. 1t is typ
ical of Yankeeland.
1t is known as the snake or Vir-
ginia fence, and as the relic of a
lavish era of unlimited forestry. His
tory does not chronicle the name of
its inventor, but / have long since
learned to cherish profound re-
spect for the memory of this I'M
known individual. 1t is hard for
me to imagine in the person of this
primitive railsplitter the picture OF
an untutored backwoodsman, and L
never follow the course of one of
one of these fences without feeling a
certain consciousness that it's orig
inal builder must have seen his work
through eyes artistic as we'll as
practical.
The careless abandon of its lines
a repetition of form in which abso.
Lutte repetition is continually detied
by the capricious convolution of the
grain, for there are 10 two rails made
in the same moud-and their gray
satiny sheen, their weather-beaten
stains of moss and lichen, 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
landscape. Often have | fingered in
its angles, and hundred times have
/ thought of the host of pictures and
"reminiscences which might fill a
book to the glory of fence corner.
Moreover, this popularity of con-
formation panders 10 most worthy
and blessed shiftlessness happily
latent in 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 reap
er'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 re-
ceive wide berth from the newly
whetted scythe or cradle.
Thus does the old rail fence be-
deck itself abundantly with wreaths
and garlands. The refuse stone piles
clothe themselves in tangles of creep
ing dewberry, 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 rifiing 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 sweet-fern give out their
aromatic SAVIOR to the wise old sim
pier, the eager small boy, or even to
the squirrel in quest of the nutty
kernels among its seed hobs. The
dull red blossoms of the glycine tell
of sweet tubers beneath the ground
and the bright sunflowers of tall
artichokes invite the old time search
among their roots.
Here in these sheltered angles the
eddying November winds hurl their
flying leaves, and heap the glory of
the autumn present upon the matted
mould 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 mulliens
and red-capped sumacs, and at last
are whirled along these weather
beaten timbers, where fantastic
peaked Alps arise, and overhanging
glistening cliffs hem in the rambling
rails in great blue-shadowed cres-
cents 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 r0llicking testi-