THE RUFFED GROUSE. 45 



they were roaring at a speed that has no equal 

 among birds of the woods? 



Every place this bird honors with its presence 

 is attractive. Where, in the little glen from 

 which the interlacing heads of the elm and the 

 maple have cut off the sunlight, racemes of little 

 rosy flowers hang from the green leaves of the 

 enchanter's nightshade, where the air is laden 

 with the fragrance of crab-apple and wild plum 

 mingled with soft sweetness from the berries of 

 the viburnum, beneath the dark hemlock where 

 the little red berries of the wintergreen shine in 

 the gloom, or where the scarlet torch of the 

 ginseng lights up the dim corridors of the forest, 

 the sportsman loves ever to linger. 



Some unseen spirit captures the old dog, and 

 his canter settles to a slow trot when he enters 

 the ground where this grouse is likely to be. 

 How impressive the patter of his feet on the 

 dead leaves, and the occasional glimpse you catch 

 of him slowly moving through the twigs! And 

 what a moment is that when you hear a fainter 

 rustling and see him moving still more slowly, 

 with more slowly-waving tail! You know he 

 must stop on the outer edge of the circle of cer- 



