•SM UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



tlie mist, sharply defined as air is from water, and place 

 my ear at the surface. All is deathly still. Whatever 

 sound was heard falls from above ; not a tremor in the 

 fog-bound area of the meadows I know are before me. 

 Down deep into the cloud I go, but there is nothing to 

 be heard even then, and little to be seen. Every twig 

 is dripping, cold, and clammy. Such an atmosphere 

 could scarcely attract even a water-bird, and I caught 

 no glimpse of any songster. Again upward into the 

 more cheerful air and sunlight, I was met by a Carolina 

 wren, that whistled cheerily " You wretch you," " You 

 wretch you," following it with complaining chirps be- 

 cause I had encroached too far into its domain. Find- 

 ing a cosey seat at the root of a tall oak, I sat quietly ; 

 the wren looked me squarely in the face and then 

 ■whistled "Right welcome," "Right welcome," twenty- 

 nine times, without stopping. I was greatly honored 

 by this attention, and I trust, not unduly grateful. 



No sooner had the bird left me to my own devices, 

 than two chipmunks come running rapidly towards each 

 other, and, meeting directly in front of me, stop sud- 

 denly. I could hear not a word they said, but I saw 

 them put their noses together for a second ; after 

 which one drew back, scratched his left ear, and 

 whistled. His companion barked, and both, turning 

 about, retraced their steps as rapidly as they had come. 



He who doubts that these creatures can talk with 

 one another should have seen them. 



When nearly at the garden gate, on my return, I 

 saw the first great flock of red-wings of the season. 

 They passed as a cloud over the sun, throwing down 



