GOOD-BY TO SUMMER 



have held a perpetual At Home from early in the 

 season. It is just the wild, unmolested spot to 

 take the fancy of those ardent wood-lovers. 

 Broken boughs have piled themselves up undis- 

 turbed under the interlocking branches from 

 which they fell, and moist, rich leaf -mold, boast- 

 ing of layers and layers, generations and genera- 

 tions of decay, mats itself around the deeply 

 shaded tree-bases. Think of the luscious larder 

 this represents! 



Ever since the early summer day when the 

 wonderful four-fold note, echoing and re-echoing 

 through these green aisles, announced the arrival 

 of the gentle visitors, I have haunted the spot. 

 The little foragers soon learned to know me, and 

 even during nesting-time they did not resent my 

 presence. With the instinct of true hospitality 

 they allowed me to follow my own devices while 

 they pursued their daily avocations, and in this 

 way they made me feel, not like an intruder, but 

 as if I were one of the family. Would that our 

 well-meaning but alas too often over-zealous hu- 

 man hosts could learn from these little beings the 

 secret of successful entertainment. 



It is with a dread of finding the wood-thrush 

 corner deserted that I visit it nowadays. " The 



[31] 



