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THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



In the cove, a reef divided them from 

 the bay, a reef covered by snaky rock 

 weeds several feet long which moved 

 with the motion of the water and evi- 

 dently frightened the menhaden back 

 whenever their leaders attempted to 

 pass over it. They had come in during 

 the wet weather and now they chose 

 to remain although each day saw more 

 terns collecting to feed upon them from 

 above and more large fish and crabs to 

 attack them from below. 



The tern army was openly encamped 

 on the near-by rocks evidently intending 

 to stay there until the last menhaden 

 was caught. It could only operate by 

 day so as if to further aid in the work 

 of extermination, night herons collected 

 in the evening. I counted seven stand- 

 ing motionless at the water's edge each 

 ready to strike with swift bill. 



One thing might save them — a storm 

 — a rough spell of high turbid water 

 that would carry them out of the cove 

 in spite of themselves. A month went 

 by and it did not come, a month during 

 which the fish vanished, probably at 

 the rate of about a thousand a day. 

 And even if they rushed the barriers, 

 what then? What chance for them, 

 defenceless in a world of enemies. Per- 

 haps they were wise ; I did not meddle, 

 but went away wondering at the way 

 of life and — hoping. 



Mossy Glen. 



BY A. W. BROOKS, OMAHA, NEBRASKA 



This picture shows a deep ravine be- 

 tween the hills near Strawberrv Point, 



Iowa. Just beyond this spot is the head 

 of the glen, where the waters come tum- 

 bling over the rocks from the springs 

 above. Ferns of many kinds grow in 

 profusion, and it would not be easy to 

 find a square inch of ground, rock, tree 

 trunk, stump or log that is not covered 

 with mosses. Hence the name. Mossy 

 Glen, a delightfully cool spot on a hot 

 summer day, and restful to the eyes. 



Lightning from a Clear Sky. 



"A bolt of lightning from a clear sky" 

 is a phrase familiarly used to illustrate 

 some event considered to be of extreme- 

 ly unlikely occurrence. Yet that very 

 thing is reported from the Connecticut 

 village of Ellington this week. There 

 were a few clouds low on the northern 

 horizon, but the sky was the color it 

 usually is when bending over the blue 

 water of the Bay of Naples. Such was 

 the apparent aspect of things when a 

 discharge of lightning swept down the 

 main street of the village, paying un- 

 welcome visits to six dififerent dwellings 

 on the way, and in each displaying its 

 proverbial freakiness. But there was no 

 freak or wonder in the whole perform- 

 ance greater than the fact that nobody 

 was killed. — The Stamford (Conn.) 

 Advocate. 



Open wide every window and door, 

 Let in all the sunshine, I pray; 



And when falls the curtain of night, 

 Let it wrap 3'ou about till the day. 

 — Emma Peirce. 



"A DELIGHTFULLY COOL SPOT ON A HOT SUMMER DAY.' 



