Under such circumstances it could not have been long--nor was it long--before I came plump upon the first of a series of odd adventures.
A great many people, I know, abominate the roadside sign.

It seems to them a desecration of nature, the intrusion of rude commercialism upon the perfection of natural beauty.

But not I.I have no such feeling.
Oh, the signs in themselves are often rude and unbeautiful, and I never wished my own barn or fences to sing the praises of swamp root or sarsaparilla--and yet there is something wonderfully human about these painted and pasted vociferations of the roadside signs; and I don't know why they are less "natural" in their way than a house or barn or a planted field of corn.

They also tell us about life.

How eagerly they cry out at us, "Buy me, buy me!" What enthusiasm they have in their own concerns, what boundless faith in themselves! How they speak of the enormous energy, activity, resourcefulness of human kind! Indeed, I like all kinds of signs.