Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1885-07-03
To Tie Editor Of the Herald:

"Nothing but peace and gentle
visitation"
I have wandered out this morning
to renew an old and of late rather
neglected acquaintance. l find her
somewhat changed. She does not
appear exactly as she did when I
knew her in old Vermont. Still she
is the same old friend, and she has
greeted me so kindly that l have
resolved to visit her frequently
while l remain here,-Nature, the
dear old friend. In all my wander
ings never will l cease to love her
until my journey shall lead to chat
undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveller returns" l have
met her this morning just within
the borders of an ancient oak forest.
On the slope before me are evil
dences of a thrifty farmer; on the
west I can see his cosy white dwell
ing. In the yard are flowers. 1t is
too far away for me to tell of what
variety they are, but | can guess
they are roses, lilacs, poppies, pinks
and peonies-old-fashioned flowers,
know them all. In the orchard
beyond the flower garden delicious
fruit will soon be ripening. Be-
meath the oaks in the yard ham
mock is swinging, just near enough
to a stately pine to lie and listen to
its whisperings. Now if there was
only someone in the hammock to
tell you about, however she-he-
they may come out when they get
through with the mornings work.
A field of red clover stretches be-
tween the forest and the farmhouse,
perhaps twenty acres OF clover IN
full bloom, and what could be more
fragrant than the breath that comes
to me across that field. In the val
ley below cattle are cropping the
short green grass; how sweet and
juicy it must taste to them. Why,
as John Burroughs says, it almost
makes one feel as if he could eat
grass himself.
In the corner of a brush fence
within ten feet of me a robin has
built her nest. She has watched me
closely ever since | came. Poor,
motherly old creature, she fears |
will modest her. No wonder, only
yesterday | saw two overgrown men
fill their pockets with stones to
throw at birds along the roadside.
Show me man that will stoop to
pick up a stone to throw at a de-
fenceless little bird and I will show
you a man that is no better than the
lowest creature that crawls on the
earth. Alice Cary would have the
meanest little bng have its chance,
all the chance of it's little life, and
admire her disposition.
Here are two friends that | have
met since | came here, and their ac-
quaintance is indeed one to be
sought after. They are singing to
me now, the cuckoo in a tree over
head and the bobolink hopping
about on the fence. The song of
the cuckoo though sweet is rather
low and melancholy, whereas the
bobolink is "the happiest bird of
our spring" The cuckoo is rather
fascinating to me, and yet do not
respect her very much. | like her
low, melancholy song, and still I
cannothelp remembering that some
other bird in whose nest she has laid
her egg is searching for food to feed
more than her share of young ones,
while the cuckoo is Willing away
her time in idle song. But the
bobolink is always busy, and what
punishment could be too severe for
him who would Intentionally bring
sorrow to her merry little heart!
What pretty place this is! I
wonder if that farmer as he stands
in the doorway of his large new barn
today and looks out across his gar
den on the clover field, then on that
forty acres of wheat stretching
away to the northward, and then
farther down in the valley below he
sees his cattle grazing isn't glad that