OUTDOORS 



dove or mourning-dove comes first. Its 

 mournful, melodious call comes sometimes at 

 midday and sometimes in the evening. Al- 

 ways it is the essence of a chastened melan- 

 choly, a saddened moan for the stillness that 

 wraps the forest " coo, coo, coo ; coo-ee 

 coo." Sometimes a pair of them may be 

 seen whirling in graceful flight through the 

 sky, coming back to their roosting-places. 



When twilight gathers on the hills and de- 

 scends on the woods, the dark vistas of the 

 forest gloom and gather their robes of 

 shadow about them and wait. The stars 

 come out and the moon rides by, and through 

 the loom of night wriggling bats dodge and 

 cross. The mink and weasel are abroad now, 

 and dozing owls have ruffled their feathers 

 and opened their large, unwinking eyes. Un- 

 der the moon and stars the woods brood, and 

 over the leaves the whisperings of night-winds 

 come softly, telling of darkness and the dis- 

 solution of the day. 



no 



