212 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



evening before. There he sniffed and smelled 

 around, then rolled over and over several times, 

 rubbing his shoulders deep among the fallen 

 grass stems, just as one sees at times a dog roll 

 and wallow in some substance which strikes the 

 fancy of his, not our, sense of smell. After so 

 wallowing about the squirrel ran up a poplar 

 tree but came down when I offered him food in 

 the way of bread crumbs and sugar, all I had 

 on hand which I though might tickle the palate 

 of a city squirrel. Both these he scorned, but 

 going farther back ate greedily of some salt 

 which had been thrown on a brick sidewalk to 

 kill the crab-grass. Then into a cherry tree he 

 went and began feeding on the bulbs of some 

 Florida orchids there suspended. This not be- 

 ing to my liking, I turned a convenient hose on 

 him. Away he scampered and up a neighbor's 

 cherry tree, where he found food to his liking; 

 rich, ripe, juicy cherries, far out on the ends of 

 the limbs where only the robins, woodpeckers 

 and squirrels like he could get them. On these 

 he feasted, and so feasting I left him in content. 

 To-night the evening star is bright and beauti- 

 ful, an eye of protection watching o'er my camp. 

 As the dusk which followed twilight settled 

 down, the call of the true katydid was, for the 

 first time this season, heard. It was the pioneer 

 of that chorus of sound which in a fortnight 

 will be sent forth at eventide far up and down 



