NOVEMBER 151 



momonts of fatigue, in the last bravo year, resting 

 on his conch ahnost among* the stacks. Of him and 

 of the faithful woman helper in his last labors 

 here, no living sign today. 



'^The form remains, the function never dies." 



GrinneU, November 28, 1912. 



Along the streets the chickadees are calling 

 from maples and elms, and the nuthatch is work- 

 ing steadily, with frequent grunts of self -approval. 

 Around the borders of the park shepherd's purse 

 is in bloom. Dandelion blossoms are fairly bright 

 on the lawn in front of Blair Hall, and the pigeons 

 coo comfortably about the cornices of that abode 

 of science. 



The stimulating air this afternoon invited one to 

 ramble into the country. In the old Reservoir, the 

 ice is firm enough to hold a man for a yard or so 

 from the shore, and at Arbor Lake a boy is sprawl- 

 ing about on the ice, heedless of the loud calls from 

 an anxious mother on the slope above. At the 

 south end of the Lake a clump of small willows 

 makes an almost brilliant yello^^ish patch against 

 the general grayish-brown of the landscape. The 

 Lake is a recent triumph of landscape gardening, 

 but the little stream flowing from it, wherein ice 

 and water now mingle, is the same we followed 

 many years ago. The contour of the hills, the 

 clustered trees, the osage hedges are mainly as of 



