THE DRAWBRIDGE. 259 



course, necessary for a naturalist to climb trees, to leap 

 fences, to cross quicksands ; and one devoid of skill can 

 readily come to grief. How confidently, but a few 

 days ago, I sprang to the top rail of a fence near by, 

 arid spinning quarter way around, not simply did I face 

 in the direction I desired to go, but screwed myself fast 

 to an unseen projection of that same top rail then 

 dangled hopelessly among the "weeds. The result was 

 as likely to be serious as ludicrous, but fortune favored 

 me so far as to grant a release, with a large percentage 

 of an important garment left as toll with that inexorable 

 fence. Besides the loss of time, it was exasperating to 

 stand amid briers with half -clad limbs, and see how 

 easily all the trouble might have been avoided. It was 

 worse to return in so dilapidated a condition and run 

 the gantlet of anxious inquirers as I sought the clothes- 

 press. 



The history of a chestnut rail can be read almost with- 

 out an effort. How vividly there comes to me the pict- 

 ure of one old woodman, as he shouldered his keen axe 

 and started for the woods ! How plainly I see him in 

 the snow-clad forest, resting a moment from his work, 

 and telling of some wild hunt or strange mishap that 

 befell him when a boy ! Then, too, looms up the patient 

 ox-team, with the load of rails upon the sled ; and better 

 than all, the pile of gnarly sticks not even the wood- 

 man's axe could conquer, arid which, in due time, blazed 

 in that cavernous fireplace before which I passed so 

 many glorious winter nights nights, if a storm raged, 

 which were sure to recall the thrilling: stories of those 



