AN OCTOBER DIARY. 379 



bis smoky chimney and tobacco bespattered ten-plate 

 stove. 



" Of course I have. They do say it's a sign of a cold 

 winter, but I never put that and that together in back 

 years to see how it was. The red-headed woodpeckers 

 and log-cocks, that in your grandfather's time was com- 

 mon enough, used to be pegging away at the apple-trees 

 all winter, and sometimes dug out big holes. I've heard 

 as how it was only hen birds as pecked the holes, 'cause 

 they had eggs to lay, like chickens, and made new nests 

 to drop 'em in. Don't suppose this is quite likely, do 

 you ?" 



"No," I replied promptly; and, seeing he was only 

 talking for sake of talk, added, "I'm in a hurry, and 

 must go," and slipped off before he realized my inten- 

 tion. As I jumped the garden fence I looked back, and 

 Miles stood in his door, with a dazed look, shading his 

 eyes from the setting sun by bending one of his horny 

 hands over them. 



October 27. — Cloudy and warm, with that peculiar 

 sometiiing in the air that makes you look up every mo- 

 ment to see if it is not raining; and at times the noises 

 you hear are certainly rain-drops on the leaves, and with 

 confidence you hold out your hand to feel them. Such 

 a day is fraudulent. It promises everything, and per- 

 forms nothing. The unseen blight has a depressing 

 effect upon all animal life ; and were it not within the 

 range of possibilities that something may be in the 

 traps, I would scarcely be tempted to pass the garden 

 gate; but I do go, and in the first trap visited is a rab- 



