"I've heard a good deal of talk about that S.T.--1860--
X. man, and the stove-blacking man, and the kidney-cure man,
because they advertised in that way; and I've read articles
about it in the papers; but I don't see where the joke
comes in, exactly. So long as the people that own the barns
and fences don't object, I don't see what the public has
got to do with it. And I never saw anything so very sacred
about a big rock, along a river or in a pasture, that it
wouldn't do to put mineral paint on it in three colours.
I wish some of the people that talk about the landscape,
and WRITE about it, had to bu'st one of them rocks OUT
of the landscape with powder, or dig a hole to bury it in,
as we used to have to do up on the farm; I guess they'd
sing a little different tune about the profanation
of scenery. There ain't any man enjoys a sightly bit
of nature--a smooth piece of interval with half a dozen
good-sized wine-glass elms in it--more than I do.
But I ain't a-going to stand up for every big ugly rock
I come across, as if we were all a set of dumn Druids.
I say the landscape was made for man, and not man for
the landscape."

"Yes," said Bartley carelessly; "it was made for the
stove-polish man and the kidney-cure man."

"It was made for any man that knows how to use it,"
Lapham returned, insensible to Bartley's irony.
"Let 'em go and live with nature in the WINTER, up there
along the Canada line, and I guess they'll get enough