MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



happy couple; and now, as noiselessly as possible, 

 let us steal away from our hiding-place and fol- 

 low on toward the wildest part of the grove. 



In this bit of the forest there is no interference 

 with the wild bent of either tree or underbrush, 

 and nature liberally rewards this reverent regard 

 for her moods and fancies. Here we find such 

 harmony, such restfulness, such a sense of re- 

 moteness, such suggestions of forest depth, as one 

 rarely obtains except in the genuine wilds. It is 

 like Anthony Trollope's ideal wood, " purpose- 

 less." The mind can conceive that it has " never 

 been planted by hands, but has come here from 

 the direct beneficence of the Creator as the first 

 woods did come before man had been taught to 

 recreate them systematically." * 



Here and there you note that several boughs 

 have been gathered into large heaps; but even in 

 this assemblage of the storm-broken branches an 

 apparently inconsistent orderly touch there is a 

 thought of preserving the manners and customs of 

 wild life. The shy little creatures who frequent 

 this region rejoice in these forest-like shelters; 

 these vantage-points from which they may safely 

 see without being seen. 



* Anthony Trollope, in A Walk in a Wood. 

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