He looked careworn
and sad; his locks were gray and he was very feeble. He was fighting his
last battle of life and he soon went to that bourne, whence no traveler
returns. He was a good man, a deacon of the Presbyterian church at
Dearbornville at the time of his death.
The hard maple trees, which he set out, are grown up to be large trees.
When leaved out, they have the most beautiful tops, with the most perfect
symmetry that could be imagined. They make splendid shade for the road.
In summer weather, when the rays of the sun were very hot, thousands have
enjoyed walking under their protecting boughs. The poor horses and cattle
that travel that road alike enjoy the benefit of those trees. The farmer
as he is going or coming from market and stops his team, to rest under
their shade, enjoys their cooling and refreshing influence. The
pedestrian, who sits down by the fence to rest his weary limbs, takes off
his hat and with his handkerchief, wipes the perspiration from his brow,
as he fans himself with his hat talks to his neighbor about the price of
things and the beautiful shade, that is around and over them.
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