THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW 



71 



The last of the asters have long since gone ; so 

 have the witch-hazels. All is quiet about the hives. 

 The bees have formed into their warm winter clusters 

 ; upon the couibs; and except "when come the calm,! 

 mild days," they will fly no more until March or| 

 April. I will half close their entrances and so help* 

 them to put on their storm-doors. 



The whole out of doors around me is like a great j 

 beehive, stored and sealed for the winter, its swarm- 

 ing life close-clustered, and safe and warm against 

 the coming cold. 



I stand along the edge of the hillside here andj 

 look down the length of its frozen slope. There 

 no sign of life. The brown leaves have drifted inl 

 Jthe mouths of the woodchuck holes, as if everyl 

 Mburrow were forsaken ; sand and sticks have washed! 

 in, too, littering and choking the doorways. AM 

 stranger would find it hard to believe that all of myl 

 ; forty-six woodchucks are gently snoring at the bot-J 

 " toms of these old uninteresting holes. Yet here they 1 

 are, and quite out of danger, sleeping the sleep of y 

 -the furry, the fat, and the forgetful. 



The woodchuck's manner of providing for wintei 

 '?s very curious. Winter spreads far and fast, 

 Woodchuck, in order to keep ahead, out of danger, 

 would need wings. But wings weren't given him.j 

 Must he perish then? Winter spreads far, but it! 

 does not go deep down only about four feet; and 

 ; Woodchuck, if he cannot escape overland, can,] 



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