Gradually the background of green comes to the front, and the oak-apples
swell, streaked with rosy stains, whence their semblance to the edible
fruit of the orchard. All unconscious of the white or red cross daubed
on the rough bark, the tree prepares its glory of leaf, though doomed
the while by that sad mark to the axe.
Cutting away the bushes with his billhook, the woodman next swings the
cumbrous grub-axe, whose wide edge clears the earth from the larger
roots. Then he puts his pipe in his pocket, and settles to the serious
work of the 'great axe,' as he calls it. I never could use this ungainly
tool aright: a top-heavy, clumsy, awkward thing, it rules you instead of
you ruling it. The handle, too, is flat--almost with an edge itself
sometimes--and is quite beyond the grasp of any but hands of iron. Now
the American axe feels balanced like a sword; this is because of the
peculiar curve of the handle. To strike you stand with the left foot
slightly forward, and the left hand uppermost: the 'S' curve (it is of
course not nearly so crooked as the letter) of the American axe adjusts
itself to the anatomy of the attitude, so to speak.
The straight English handle does not; it is stiff, and strains the
muscles; but the common 'great axe' has the advantage that it is also
used for splitting logs and gnarled 'butts.' An American axe is too
beautiful a tool for that rude work.
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