153 BOULDER REVERIES. 



warmth over the slope on which I rest. Great 

 billows of that elixir of life, pure oxygen, are 

 being wafted to and around me by the stiff 

 breeze which rolls up the valley from the south- 

 west. 



The russet and green, the scarlet and yellow 

 of the foliage of numerous maples, denote the 

 season and forbode the coming of the winter. 

 Two hoar frosts have come and gone. Bitter 

 and pinching to the unprepared were they, yet 

 begetting or reviving in the brains of humans 

 such as I an inspiration for work, which the 

 balmy airs of summer long since quenched. 



But three forms of animal life have as yet 

 been seen this morn; First the omnipresent 

 crow, scolding at me with his harsh "ha-ha"; 

 sitting quietly and gazing at me as long as I 

 kept my hands in my trousers pockets, but off 

 like a flash when I raised them towards him as 

 if pointing a gun. 



Second, a plump fox squirrel, which I sur- 

 prised on turning a bend in the path. Spring- 

 ing erect on his haunches at first sight of me, 

 he gazed for a single instant, then away as fast 



