IV-III

On the first or second day of August I got a
horse and cart and set out for the high coun-
try, to visit the Widow Steavens. The wheat
harvest was over, and here and there along
the horizon I could see black puffs of smoke
from the steam thrashing-machines. The
old pasture land was now being broken up
into wheatfields and cornfields, the red grass
was disappearing, and the whole face of the
country was changing. There were wooden
houses where the old sod dwellings used to
be, and little orchards, and big red barns; all
this meant happy children, contented women,
and men who saw their lives coming to a
fortunate issue. The windy springs and the
blazing summers, one after another, had en-
riched and mellowed that flat tableland; all
the human effort that had gone into it was
coming back in long, sweeping lines of fer-
tility. The changes seemed beautiful and
harmonious to me; it was like watching the
growth of a great man or of a great idea. I
recognized every tree and sandbank and

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v?