343 UPLAND AND MEADOW. 



other batracliian responded. It was a doleful even- 

 ing. 



Was it on this account that a little red owl, at mid- 

 night, mourned in most sepulchral tones? For the first 

 time in my recollection, this little owl added gloom to 

 the scene. Ordinarily, I love to hear the owls, large 

 and small; but to-night it was unwelcome. Melan- 

 choly nights, such as this, are not uncommon in au- 

 tumn. I know of no reason, unless there is some pe- 

 culiarity in the atmosphere, as I have suggested ; bnt 

 certain it is that the depressing effect is at times pro- 

 duced, and scarcely a creature stirs. The shrews stay 

 in their burrows. Mice remain at home. Flying-squir- 

 rels forego their foraging. The mink, weasel, and 

 skunk sleep the sleep of the virtuous. Life rests by 

 common consent, and the idea of exertion is repugnant. 



Ordinarily, when we wander into the woods at night, 

 and can summon up the necessary courage and patience 

 to wait, alone, for coming events, it will be found that 

 there is considerable activity, even when the darkness 

 is profound ; and proportionably more as there is light 

 from the stars, an aurora, or the moon. If the moon- 

 light is very bright, then the activity is often curtailed, 

 just as sunlight puts an end to the predatory excursions 

 of man}' animals. 



To-night it was dark, but not so dark but that the 

 trees could be seen against the clear sky. I spent a 

 long time in the woods that till the gully. The ab- 

 sence of all evidence of animal life was remarkable. I 

 could think of no reason for this, so held the pale green 

 skv and lurid west accountable. Had a brisk breeze 



