An Oak Is No Respecter Of Persons.

Whoever Invented The Word 'grace' Must Have Seen The Wing-folding Of The Plover.

To Build A Road Is So Much Simpler Than To Think Of What The Country Really Needs.

This Song Of The Waters Is Audible To Every Ear, But There Is Other Music In These Hills, By No Means Audible To All. On A Still Night, When The Campfire Is Low And The Pleiades Have Climbed Over Rimrocks, Sit Quietly And Listen, And Think Hard Of Everything You Have Seen And Tried To Understand. Then You May Hear It - A Vast Pulsing Harmony - Its Score Inscribed On A Thousand Hills, Its Notes The Lives And Deaths Of Plants And Animals, Its Rhythms Spanning The Seconds And The Centuries.

Then Came The Gadgeteer, Otherwise Known As The Sporting-goods Dealer. He Has Draped The American Outdoorsman With An Infinity Of Contraptions, All Offered As Aids To Self-reliance, Hardihood, Woodcraft, Or Marksmanship, But Too Often Functioning As Substitutes For Them. Gadgets Fill The Pockets, They Dangle From Neck And Belt. The Overflow Fills The Auto-trunk And Also The Trailer. Each Item Of Outdoor Equipment Grows Lighter And Often Better, But The Aggregate Poundage Becomes Tonnage.

At First Blush I Am Tempted To Conclude That A Satisfactory Hobby Must Be In Large Degree Useless, Inefficient, Laborious, Or Irrelevant.