168 A MOUNTAIN-SIDE RAMBLE. 



addressed our foremost American gentleman 

 and philosopher : 



" Good day, good sir ! 

 Fine afternoon, old passenger ! 

 Happy to meet you in these places." 



But the churlish fellow had no notion of 

 doing the honors, and by the time I had 

 advanced two or three paces he whisked 

 about and vanished inside the door. " Well 

 done ! " I thought. " Great is evolution. 

 Woodchucks used to be cave-dwellers, but 

 they are getting to live above ground, like 

 the rest of us. So does history repeat it- 

 self. Who knows how soon they may be 

 putting up cottages on their own account? " 

 Perhaps I gave the creature more credit 

 than really belonged to him. I followed 

 him into the house, but he was nowhere to 

 be seen, and it is not unlikely that he lived 

 in a cave, after all. Nearly half the floor- 

 ing had rotted away, and there was nothing 

 to hinder his getting into the cellar. He 

 may have taken the old farmhouse as a con- 

 venient portico for his burrow, a sort of 

 storm-porch, as it were. In his eyes this 

 may be the final end and aim, the teleolog- 

 ical purpose, of all such board-and-shingle 



