AN OCTOBER DIARY. 323 



smoke-like fog that veils the river to the great bend 

 and beyond. The snap in the air — I can call it nothing 

 else — brought out the birds, as it always does, and crows 

 cawed, jays jabbered, warblers chirped cheerily, and 

 even the nuthatch forgot the obstruction in his throat, 

 and every complaining " quank-quank " he uttered was 

 not rasped, ragged, and rough ; but sounded smoothly, 

 softly, as a bird's note should. 



Up in the fields, amid the long rows of corn-shocks, 

 I lingered until long after sunrise, taking in draughts of 

 morning air that were to keep me while I tarried in 

 town, during tlie hot, dusty noon. I envied the busk- 

 ers, with their pleasant surroundings ; while they, de- 

 luded mortals, longed to spend their time in town. 



It was the mice in the corn-fields that had called me 

 thither, and I had not long to look before I found 

 dozens. The short -tailed meadow mouse was there, 

 having come up from the meadows, some weeks ago, to 

 feed on the grain. But there is another species, so like 

 the semi-domesticated house mouse that I am disposed 

 to call it such, and, whether correctly or not, it is, when 

 in the corn-fields, a most entertaining creature. This 

 corn-field mouse, unlike the short-tailed meadow mice, 

 does not have any runways in the stubble, but lodges 

 among the corn-shocks, often half-way to their tops; 

 making a nest by nibbling to a pulp the leaves of the 

 plant. Here the little fellow will sit, and take life very 

 easy until over goes the shock, at the hands of the busk- 

 ers, when away darts the mouse, leaping like a jerboa, 

 until it finds concealment in dead grass or other cover. 

 I tried this morning to catch some of these house mice 



