IN THE SHADE OF THE OAKS. 169 



had brought, changed about, jumped as lightly as 

 a bird upon the other's back and raced home. 

 Soon she came galloping back again, and so she 

 went and came until tired out, for pure fun on 

 her free holiday. 



In looking over the bright memory pictures of 

 my beautiful oak garden, there is one to which I 

 always return. The spreading trunks of a great 

 five-stemmed tree on one side of the grove made 

 a dark oaken couch, screened by the leafy willow- 

 like branches that hung to the ground. Here — 

 after looking to see that there were no rattlesnakes 

 coiled in the dead leaves — I spent many a dreamy 

 hour, reclining idly as I listened to the free songs 

 of the birds that could not see me behind my 

 curtain. It was interesting to note the way cer- 

 tain sounds predominated ; certain songs would 

 absorb one's attention, and then pass and be re- 

 placed by others. At one time a jay's scream 

 would jar on the ear and drown all other voices ; 

 when that had passed, the chewinks would fly up 

 from the leaves and sing and answer each other 

 till the air was quivering with their trills. Then 

 came the thrashers, with their loud rollicking 

 songs ; and when they had pitched down into the 

 brush, out rang the clear bell-like tones of the 

 wren-tit, filling the air with sound. Afterwards 

 the impatient whipped-out notes of the chaparral 

 vireo were followed by the soft cooing of doves ; 

 and then, as the wind stirred the trees and sent 



