A SUMMER AT HOME. 23* 



acre of woods, and yet, from some leafy hollow of half 

 that area, which, in the eyes of a snail, has for months 

 been delightfully damp, often a hundred or more will 

 issue forth together, directing their course towards the 

 nearest water, either a bubbling spring or a moist bed 

 of fern-embowered mosses. 



It would be inconsistent to add one word to our local 

 weather-lore, having held it in such profound contempt 

 for years ; but when snails are seen migrating from dead 

 leaves to green moss, expect a continuance of dry weath- 

 er. I purposely say " expect," for I have known the one 

 incident not to be followed by the other. 



August 7. — We have had a series of hard rains, gen- 

 tle showers, pour-downs, Scotch mists, and wet fogs. It 

 ought to have washed the dust from the birds' throats, 

 but it has not. The clear ring of a June morning is 

 wanting. 



The most noticeable bird-features of the present are 

 the flockings of various species. The bobolinks of last 

 May are now russet-coated reed-birds, and associated 

 with them are numbers of last spring's orioles, with 

 much the same colored plumage. Are the orioles de- 

 ceived by this, and think the reed-birds are their cousins, 

 near or remote ? The flight of the two species is quite 

 similar, and many a sportsman, eager for the first "reed" 

 of the season, has brought down an oriole, to his dis- 

 gust. 



August 8. — The wild cherries are ripening, and the 

 robins are happy. They devour every cherry witl; evi- 



