MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



pension bridge has been swung across this path 

 since we entered it a few moments ago. Some 

 industrious little spider has spun its silken web 

 in that short time. I am always on the watch 

 for a fascinating horror in this realm. I hope 

 some day to come upon the scene so thrillingly 

 portrayed by Alphonse Karr. An Amazon of a 

 spider beckoning to some trembling, insignificant 

 little suitor to approach that she may see if he 

 suits her fancy. Brave indeed is he to respond, 

 for he knows that she will eat him not merely 

 reject him if he falls short of her standard! 



Over yonder in the spruces and hemlocks the 

 honey-bees are hard at work. They find some- 

 thing very attractive at the sections where the 

 tender, light-green shoots of the new growth 

 meet the dark, firm portions of the old. These 

 bees are no doubt members of communities that 

 have sprung from a colony of waifs. Last sum- 

 mer a swarm coming from some unknown quar- 

 ter located in one of the squirrel houses which 

 you see high up among the trees. The little, old, 

 weather-beaten tree-top home, with its entire bee 

 population, has been safely lowered from its perch 

 among the branches, and now it stands on a 

 broad, low shelf at the head of five fine patent 



