SNUGGING-DOWN DAYS 



snugged down for the winter. Here 

 and there a tree, still afloat in its brown 

 undulating ocean, seems to be scudding 

 for the shelter of the forest under bare 

 poles, while the stout white oaks lie 

 to near the coast under double-reefed 

 courses, the brown leaf-sails still hold- 

 ing to the lower yards while all the spars 

 above have been blown bare. The wood- 

 chuck paths, that not long ago led from 

 one clover patch to another and then on 

 to well-hidden holes, lie pale and untrav- 

 elled, while their fat owners are snugged 

 down below in warm burrows with their 

 noses folded in under their forepaws. 

 Tradition has it that they will wake in a 

 warm spell in midwinter and peer out of 

 their burrows to see what the prospect 

 of spring may be. Hence, the second of 

 February is not only Candlemas day, but 

 ground-hog day in rural tradition, the 

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