Windy Bush. 117 



sudden downpour silenced them, and, like myself, 

 they sought shelter. Doubtless they have in mind 

 many a safe retreat, for they suffer from wet 

 feathers at times as much or more than we do 

 by wet clothing. I found none with bedraggled 

 feathers, however, when the rain was over, and, 

 indeed, was more entertained by a huge slug that 

 slipped slimily over a prostrate log than by the 

 robins and thrushes that made every nook and 

 corner of the forest ring with their rejoicings. 

 This slug watched me curiously with its absurd 

 telescopic eyes, which continuously collapsed when 

 I became too demonstrative. But its curiosity 

 was unbounded, and quickly reappeared the 

 slender stalks with eyes perched on their tips. I 

 teased his slugship for a long time, and finally 

 made bold to touch one of the eye-stalks. Of- 

 fended beyond measure, it moved off with its head 

 tucked under its breast, and took a back track 

 gracefully, turning at a sharp angle, and made of 

 its body for a time a squeezed-up letter V. Then 

 I left the poor creature in peace. The glistening 

 trail of slime that it left behind it, by which alone 

 I was to remember the meeting, was not pleasing ; 



