UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 



a tiny bubble on the vast current of animate nature, 

 whose beginning is beyond our ken in the dim past, 

 and whose ending is equally beyond our ken in the 

 dim future. He goes his pretty ways, gathers his 

 precarious harvest, has his adventures, his hair- 

 breadth escapes, his summer activity, his autumn 

 plenty, his winter solitude and gloom, and his spring 

 awakening and gladness. He has made himself a 

 home here in the old orchard; he knows how deep to 

 go into the ground to get beyond the frost-line; he is 

 a pensioner upon the great bounty upon which we 

 all draw, and probably lives up to the standard of 

 the chipmunk life more nearly than most of us live 

 up to the best standards of human life. May he so 

 continue to live, and may we yet meet for many 

 summers under the apple-boughs. 



PART II 



When the spring came I was seized with a curios- 

 ity to know how much of his stores my little friend 

 had disposed of, and which of his various assortment 

 of nuts and grain had proved his favorites. To set- 

 tle these points there was only one course to pursue: 

 we must dig him out. So one April day we pro- 

 ceeded to do so. We at once discovered a new hole 

 or entrance, only a few inches from the other, and 

 apparently more in use than it was. We found his 

 chamber about three feet below the surface with 

 its usual nest of dry leaves and grass, and a few 



