WOODLAND PATHS 



blow, but rarely a flaw strikes in far 

 enough to ruffle the water. Here, with the 

 sun on my back, I might sit quietly, and 

 soon the normal life of the place, if at first 

 disturbed by my entrance, would go on. 



Yet here is no drowsy silence, such as 

 will fill the cove with sleep in August. 

 Passing April may leave things quiet, but 

 they are awake. The first sound which 

 disturbed this quiet was a kerplunk at my 

 side, followed by the grating of a turtle 

 shell over rough rock and a second plunge. 

 Two spotted turtles that had been sunning 

 themselves on a rock at my very elbow as 

 I glided in thus became submarines, and 

 slipped silently away to Ooze Harbor be- 

 tween two sheltering rocks at bottom. 

 These two had been contemplating nature 

 with the sun on their backs, as I planned 

 to, and had been loth to leave such pleasant 



employment. I think the turtle's brain 

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