OUTDOORS 



fly, and there were no tadpoles to wriggle 

 inkily in the amber water. By the side of the 

 grass, where a single flower stood, a lone 

 butterfly poised, his bright variegated wings 

 moving slowly back and forth as he rested on 

 the flower. Here was a waif of summer 

 whose temerity was like to meet a killing 

 frost before long. 



The paths among the trees were dimmed 

 by leaves of many colors, and yet the foliage 

 seemed thicker than in days of June. On 

 the one wagon-road that stretched through 

 the forest dust lay thick, and the trace of 

 wheels was indistinct occasionally and faintly 

 outlined sometimes again on the sod along 

 each side of the road. Once a farm-wagon 

 bounced and clattered past and when it was 

 gone the woods settled into a more positive 

 stillness. At the edge of the timber we came 

 across a troop of robins, and they flew over 

 the pastures and away toward the tamaracks. 

 At a pasture's corner, next to one strip of 

 woods, there came the sweet note of a blue- 

 bird for a brief moment, and eight of them, 

 their wings flashing in the sun, flew southward 

 high in air. 



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