There was always that mysterious blue haze over the
higher ridges and that soft light that fills the atmosphere and
creates the sense of lovely "unimaginable spaces." It overhung
the far rolling landscape of wheat fields, pastures and wood,
crowning with a soft radiance the remoter low swelling hilltops
and deepened into dreamy half shadows on their western slopes.
Nearer, it fell on the rich gold of ripening wheat that lay in
the valley or gleamed like golden crowns on the level space at
the very summits of high hills; nearer still it touched with
spring-like brilliancy the level green of meadows that clothed
other uplands, where groups of Jersey cattle grazed beneath the
shade of graceful elms; yet nearer it caught the rich foliage of
blossoming chestnut trees and lit them up like crowns of ermine.
In the immediate foreground it fell on the road that made
continual windings along the edge of a steep ravine. How we
rejoiced at the prospect and the warm, glowing sunshine! Right
at the road's edge grew Christmas lady, sensitive and woodsia
ferns, mealy-bell-wort, true and false Solomon's Seal, ground
ginger, greenbrier, smilax and flaming cardinal flowers which
were lit up with flying gleams of sunshine, forming great masses
of tremulous shifting mosaic of rarer and older designs than any
that Persia or India yet know. This Ohio of ours is indeed a
fair land; and this morning, of all mornings of our lives, we
seemed to hear "the ever-lasting poetry of the race." We thanked
our lucky stars that our lot fell in such a pleasant place, and
were justly proud that from Ohio's farms have come so many
worthy souls.
We found enough to admire in every farmhouse, however humble, to
repay us for our climb. Now and then we saw some narrow valleys
and rough hillsides, where corn and potatoes were engaged in a
struggle with countless stones. Without the aid of the energetic
Ohio farmers they had well-nigh been driven from the field. The
rows of pale thin corn (the stunted reward of necessitous
husbandry) "showed that these people possess that spirit of
labor, which, however undervalued by some unthinking mortals, is
the germ from which all good mast spring." One cannot but notice
with what patient industry these sturdy sons of the soil turn
these rocky hillsides into fields of growing grain; how the
apple trees were made to acquire health and productiveness; and
how the wheat stood like vast billows of gold under the rays of
the forenoon sun. We soon forgot their seeming hardships and
gave our hearty admiration to the sturdy reapers of Ohio.
These men, spending as much toil and energy upon their log
cabins and small barns, prize them just as highly as the people
of a more favored section value their more luxurious abodes. We
were glad to note the whitewashed cabins, well kept yards with
roses at the gate, patches of marigolds under the window, and
the ever present birdhouse and adjacent orchard. How at the
sight one's memory goes back to other days with a wealth of
emotion as refreshing as falling dew to thirsty flowers. One
considers how to these people their humble homes may be
priceless in their wealth of associations. They may be indeed
far richer than the owner of some palatial residence where every
luxury abounds and love is not. How often these tillers of the
soil must sit beneath their doorway, watching the outlines of
far hills clothed in dim blue haze; how often, too, they must
have watched the sinking sun as they ate their evening meal of
bread and milk and looked far away over the rolling landscape
with the air of a king. The old home has grown into their lives,
giving them more than wealth. If the soil is not adapted for the
finest crops it may produce better thinkers.
As we journeyed on we thought of John Dyer's lines on Gronger
Hill:
Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?
We answered his question by saying, "Never." A quiet seemed to
creep over the hot landscape. The great chestnut and basswood
trees seemed to be taking their noon rest; only the buzzing of
myriads of bees filled the air with their sound; a robin settled
near us with open mouth and drooping wings; the maple leaves
hung limp and silent, showing their silver linings; only the
warbling vireo sang her medley among its branches. The hills
shimmered. Not far away were masses of dark clouds which
stretched across a valley and seemed to rest on the opposite
hills and sink in a dense mass into a farther valley. Presently
we saw a white sheet of rain drifting rapidly toward us. We drew
out to the side of the road beneath some small hickory trees and
quickly put on the curtains and proceeded to eat our luncheon
during the storm. The rain came down in torrents, but was soon
over. We unfastened the curtains that we might have a better
view of the birds that emerged from their leafy coverts and sang
all about us. The noon sun was lighting up a million gleaming
tears that hung to the leaves, so quiet was the atmosphere. The
storm was still rumbling not far away across the hills, where a
lovely bow spanned the sky. Vapors hung just above the tree
tops, seething like smoke from hidden chimneys.
How the birds rejoiced after the shower! Two cardinals woke the
echoes with their wild, ringing calls. Indigo buntings, using
the telephone wires as a point from which to start messages,
sent them out in all directions. These, if not so important as
those of men, were more pleasant to hear. The summery call of a
turtle dove came dreamily through the forest; while nearer,
towhees filled the place with their "fine explosive trills."
Down in the ravine chats were uttering their strange notes, so
weird that they won from the Indians the name of "ghost bird."
Vireos and tanagers vied with each other in persistent singing.
The vireo sang more constantly but the notes of the tanager were
more wild and possessed greater resonance of tone.
