THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



the borders of swamps, occupied by weasels, but the 

 holes were in all outward respects like those made by 

 chipmunks, with no soil near the entrance. The wood- 

 chuck makes no attempt to conceal his hole by carry- 

 ing away the soil; neither does the prairie-dog, nor 

 the pocket gopher. The pile of telltale earth in each 

 case may be seen from afar, but our little squirrel 

 seems to have notions of neatness and concealment 

 that he rarely departs from. The more I study his 

 ways, the more I see what a clever and foxy little 

 rodent he is. 



II. FROM A WALKER'S WALLET 



On the morning after our first hard frost in late 

 October or early November how rapidly the leaves 

 let go their hold upon their parent stems! I stood 

 for some minutes one such morning under a maple 

 by the roadside to witness the silent spectacle. The 

 leaves came down one by one like great golden flakes ; 

 there was no motion in the air to loosen them; their 

 hour had come, and they gave up life easily and 

 gracefully. 



What a gay company they had made on that tree 

 all summer, clapping their hands in gladness, and 

 joyously drinking in the air and the sunshine, whis- 

 pering, rustling, swayed by emotion, or stilled by the 

 night dews, and each and all doing their work! Now 

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