That Dark Laboratory We Call The Soil.

. . . Perhaps Our Grandsons, Having Never Seen A Wild River, Will Never Miss The Chance To Set A Canoe In Singing Waters . . . Glad I Shall Never Be Young Without Wild Country To Be Young In.

Too Much Safety Seems To Yield Only Danger In The Long Run.

Conservation Is A State Of Harmony Between Men And Land.

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

In Farm Country, The Plover Has Only Two Real Enemies: The Gully And The Drainage Ditch. Perhaps We Shall One Day Find That These Are Our Enemies, Too.