98 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



with my meals coffee, strong coffee, often with- 

 out milk, always without sugar. Then upon a 

 physician's advice I quit coffee and took up hot 

 water. When tired and somewhat thirsty, as I 

 was this eve, it "goes home," seeming to stim- 

 ulate and strengthen the inner man more than 

 coffee ever did. Give it a spoonful or two of 

 sugar and a mixture of cherry juice, as I did 

 at supper, and it is nectar, drink for the Gods, 

 that is the Gods of the woods which are the only 

 ones I recognize here in the old pasture these 

 days and nights of June. 



Sunday, June 11.- Not till 5:30 did I arise 

 this morn. The day , promises hot and sultry, 

 the air being overcharged with moisture which 

 cannot fall as rain. Seated again near the mul- 

 berry tree I write and watch for squirrels. 



A big brownish-black fly, his back striped 

 with a deeper black, his abdomen splashed with 

 gray blotches, alights on my note-book. It is 

 a common woodland species, rarely found in 

 houses. He cleans his front feet, then his hind 

 ones, several times in turn, by rubbing them 

 over one another. His middle ones are wholly 

 neglected. Perchance he cannot bring them 

 into the proper juxtaposition, or perhaps goes 

 through life without cleaning them. The only 

 other move he makes for five or more minutes 

 is to turn a number of times part way round 



