MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



little friends have taken their departure at last," 

 I say to myself if I do not sight them speedily. 

 But they are still here. Do you see the soft 

 brown backs and the lovely dotted breasts in the 

 pile of brush yonder? In and out, in and out 

 among the broken boughs they come. " Such a 

 gentle, high-bred air [the wood-thrush] has, and 

 such inimitable composure in his flight and move- 

 ment! Was he a prince in the olden time, and 

 do the regal grace and mien still adhere to him in 

 his transformation ? "* 



If by any chance the little friends are not to be 

 found here I look for them just over the way 

 where that tall, graceful Norway spruce sweeps 

 the ground. They are generally in the act of 

 swallowing some wriggling dainty as they emerge 

 from under the upward curving branches, for the 

 beautiful Norway spruce guards a fine grub and 

 insect preserve. 



Now let us stroll on toward the open grassy 

 stretches. On their borders, as if not quite cer- 

 tain of an invitation to closer intimacy and ready 

 to retire to the woods in case of a rebuff, stands 

 an array of little wild asters; the good-by to 

 summer, as the flower is called in lands of early 



* Mr. John Burroughs, in Wake Robin. 



[32] 



