MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



that no more cheery influence could be imagined 

 than this unlooked-for bit of brightness in the 

 midst of the surrounding darkness. 



Several years ago I learned what the lights of 

 a home may mean to those who view them from 

 a cheerless outer world. It was while we were 

 summering in the beautiful Canadian region 

 where I made the acquaintance of Corny, the 

 friendly crow. On either side of our house, be- 

 tween us and our nearest neighbors, were many 

 wooded acres; back of us were the mountains; 

 before us a long lake stretch, and on the opposite 

 side of the lake more mountains, with only two 

 inhabited dwellings at their base. The house we 

 occupied standing as it did on an eminence 

 commanded a wide view, and was visible nearly 

 the entire length of the lake. The window-shut- 

 ters, great, thick wooden structures, made with a 

 view to resisting possible bear attacks, were at 

 first arbitrarily left open or closed during the 

 evening without a thought of our illumination 

 serving a double purpose. But when we learned 

 what our lights might mean to outsiders, a proc- 

 lamation went forth to the effect that the shut- 

 ters were to be left wide open at night until the 

 hour for retiring and extinguishing the lights. 



