THE GREAT AWAKENING. 199 



red-winged blackbirds, purple grackles, titmice 

 and turtle doves, everywhere utter their cheery 

 calls. Bees, galore, hum and buzz along the 

 pathway while seeking honey of the first spring 

 blossoms, and butterflies flit here and there in 

 search of mate or nectar. 



I follow the loops of the woodland stream this 

 morn, occasionally cutting across its bends. At 

 intervals a "plunk" is heard, and looking down 

 I see a burrowing cricket frog, endeavoring to 

 hide from view in the mud. When I approach 

 he leaps. He knows the water is there and 

 without measuring the distance, he jumps, strik- 

 ing the water with a sound akin to that pro- 

 duced by a flat-sided pebble when dropped from 

 a high bridge into the stream below. 



Dace, chubs and smaller fry are seized with 

 a new energy when my shadow falls athwart 

 their vision, and wildly scatter, seeking to bur- 

 row beneath leaves, boulders or anything which 

 will hide them from the goblin which they think 

 they see upon the shore. One dives beneath a 

 large immersed sycamore leaf and comes forth 

 more quickly than it entered, overturning its 



