56 BOULDER BEVERIES. 



my existence has vanished from the earth, here 

 will they still rest, their sides bared to the ele- 

 ments of nature, which for centuries to come 

 will beat against them in vain. 



The chipmunk swings with skip and jump 

 merrily around the angles of the old rail fences. 

 They are his chosen highways easy avenues of 

 travel furnishing him shelter from the fierce 

 rays of the August sun protection from the 

 keen, searching eye of hawk. A pretty mammal 

 he, and as graceful in his movements as he is 

 pretty. His eyes ever sparkle with the vigor of 

 life that wild, out of door life, plenteous with 

 exercise which he lives. How bright and sleek 

 his furry coat; how full of exuberant joy fulness 

 his chuckles of satisfaction as he sits on his 

 haunches and raises his bit of food to his mouth. 

 I envy him his innocence, his wild roaming, 

 free life, his contentment with the little which 

 nature bestows upon him. 



On a recent morn I was seated on the stone 

 steps of Owen Hall, one of the State Univer- 

 sity buildings at Bloomington, when one of these 

 little squirrels ran nimbly up the steps and pass- 



