icp6] Extracts from Diary of the Late Robt. Elliott. 125 



turned near me and foraged assiduously among leaves and rub- 

 bish apparently for beetles. It frequently dug an inch or two 

 after its prey. No smell was noticeable. The most surprising- 

 thing connected with this animal in the woods is the enormous 

 size of its tail. 



June 15. Visited the carp pond and on the trees around it 

 large numbers of Hyla versicolor were trilling musically. I cap- 

 tured four, three of them greyish and one greenish. I watched 

 them for an hour in the bottle and noticed that the greenish one, 

 (the largest) was the only one that trilled, the others merely of- 

 fering a soft chic, chic, chic. The greenish one was the only 

 one attempting to copulate with the other ones. It was certainly 

 a male and I presume the others were females. I am not aware 

 that sexual distinction is connected with the cclor of this very 

 variable species ; but there is a clear difference in the notes of 

 the sexes. This is interesting. I also noticed that after hand- 

 ling these viscid hylas and accidentally rubbing my eyes I felt a 

 smarting that lasted for twenty minutes or so. I suppose no 

 bird or mammal finds them at all palatable. I would like to 

 offer one to Procyon lolor, who greedily devours the Ranas. 



June 19. The afternoon turning out fine I had the choice 

 of going to a picnic or to the Model. The winds whispered in 

 the beeches, and I went to the latter alone save for the buzzing 

 thoughts that hummed through my head. Splashing through the 

 swamp there, I came half unaware on a magnificent group of 

 Cypripedium spectabile, and I did not envy Wordsworth with his 

 heart dancing with the daffodils. Seventeen blossoms had opened 

 out, the peerless flowers all perfect as one could wish, purple and 

 pink fading invisibly into immaculate white 'these boats floated 

 in the ethereal air waiting for some dainty Ariel to set a filmy 

 sail above them, and ready to waft them whither he wished. Or 

 indeed it may be (so dull are mortal senses) that they were moc- 

 dassins fashioned by the patient worker, Nature, for some fairy 

 Indian maiden, for her wedding hour by the light of the full 

 mcon this very midsummer night. Be all this as it may, a 

 portion of this beauty pierced deep through my eye and down to 

 my heart. A swamp sparrow brooded on her egg's near by, and 

 a veerv filled the woods with his clingle dangle, a silver bell 



