The Monticellonian., 1908-03-05
-rhey also serve, who only stand

anu dlNdyS GeSpOuueu Wllu like greeting It is as much rule of the road" as to drive to the right I knew the custom in the old boy hood days on my uncle's farm in Iowa, and never failed to observe it. l imagine the sight of we three dili gently tramping about the country in search of nothing, and with apparent ly no object, must have been mat ter of some perplexity to those who came across us.
 When the trees had been stripped of their leaves, and we went hickory. nutting, or gathering great heans ui walnuts and pounded the bulls off with stones and clubs, there was ap parently some design to our wan. derings. But in the clear days of early spring and the drowsy hours of summer, surely it must have appear. ed, for awhile at least, as a curious ard useless custom to those who dwelt about Us, our vague and desul- tory trips along the roads, through meadow and pasture. through ravine and timber and round about the coua. try-side.
 For them there was the question of putting in the crops, and for getting about the country when they wanted to do that they hitched up the!. single horses or double teams and drove. Good horses they had. too. with quite 9 dash of Morgan stock in their road sters and sturdy strain of Morgan Percheron in their draft stock.
 One of our favorite walks was the road that stretched to the cast to- ward the Illinois river valley. It was a comparatively uneventful road for nearly a mile. but suddenly the high way dipped with a sheer descent, and for miles to the north and north east
 The valley lay smiling before us"
 It was an exquisite view The bluffs along the bottom marked where once the Illinois had made it's bed river rivaling the Amazon in it's width and grandeur. Along these bluffs prehistoric glaciers had shorn clear through the buttressed walls. and carved ravines that led on and out to the land beyond. Shelving slopes green with winter wheat lay along to the extreme north, and this side of them cattle were dimly etched along rocky pasture lands that rose above the valley. Beyond was a scarf of purpling haze, that made a eeronet for the line of timber by the river.
 Sometimes We climbed quite to the top of a conical hill that fianked the valley near this view, and sat down by the cairn of Sac chief whose tomb had been both builded and dug up at this point Here We could see for many miles. The smoke of far off towns on the river, the fields along the bottom, the woods, the foraging hawks and crows. the subtle sense of remoteness on that toppling height gave stray feeling of being in some forbidden sanctuary. On this pin nacle the foX-squirrels, emboldened by years of security, chattered and seolded from the hard naples and tow ering oaks, or ran about fearlessly, and as gracefully as trained athletes, on the adjacent trees. Rabbits sprang from bushy clumps, and garter snakes wound in and out of the stumps and grass in wisps of green and gold.
 Sometimes my own individual walks took me to town, fonr miles away. It was mere bagatelle to walk there and back. even in the hot test days of summer. Eight miles seemed not so much as half a dozen city blocks, because of the variety of the scenery, the freshness of the air. the blessed absence of crowds. clear sky and the life and color ob- servable all along the way. I could make four miles in 55 minutes if cared to walk briskly, but usually covered the distance in an hour and ten minutes.
 Occasionally I got a ride from a farmer, but it was usually my for tune to meet all teams going back when l went in, and coming in when 1 went back. The road was up and down hill, the town could be reached by two separate highways, and a tramp in and out was delight. espe- cially in the early morning. At that time the birds were all abroad. and kept me company from farm to town. Squirrels also had begun their early ramblings. and ran stealthily for shel- ter at my approach, or shifted sud. denly to the opposite side of tall trees when they caught sight of me.
 Sometimes l went in to farm and drew up bucket of water, drinking from the edge of the bucket. and passing the time of day" with the farmer,
 One of our daily and favorite walks was to the west, and just as the sun was going down. We would attend the disappearance of the god of day as devoutly as perhaps the Persians worshiped his dawning West and south there was an elevation where two gnarled cedars and a stubby rose. bush marked the spot where a farm house had once stood There we could wait until the sun had begun to sink in a whirl of changing color.
 That peculiar singing feeling that ushers in approaching twilight would faintly begin, the night-hawks would sail now high, now low about the fields, and hull down to the south might glimmer single star. As the suns rim dipped, we clambered the fence to the west, turned our faces hemeward, and idled back over the dusky country road. Cow-bells ian. gled in the distance, the dust was odorous under foot, the long lapses of silence eloquent of rest Even the scimeter of heralding moon was