A Day in Ellington Woods. 



"Evening in Ellington woods. 



In writing of one's experiences 

 afield and astream, many narra- 

 tors derive most pleasure in tell- 

 ing of the days when they got the 

 heaviest bags or fullest creel ; but 

 it is not so with the writer. Some 

 of the happiest outings ever par- 

 ticipated in would be called a fail- 

 ure if measured by the contents 

 of my game pockets, or by the 

 weight of my fish basket. In the 

 lovely autumn season I enjoy a 

 ramble in the wood or a row on 

 the river, purely for the pleasure 

 of being with nature and away from the hurrying, dollar- 

 getting world. Not only do such rambles furnish present 

 enjoyment to the nature lover, but retrospectively furnish 

 him pleasure through all his days, smoothing the way for 

 the faltering step in the winter of life. 



I have a rich store of such memories to draw on, but none 

 of them furnish me more pleasure than that of an afternoon's 

 squirrel hunt in Ellington wood. It was one of those lovely 

 second-summer mornings when all the world seems to rejoice, 

 that I stepped out of the house on my way to the office. Stand- 

 ing on the porch I looked in silent admiration across the fields 

 to Lime Creek. The first cold snap had come and coated the 

 stream with an inch of ice. Following it, had come those azure 

 Indian summer days when the very heavens were golden, the 

 nights clear and frosty, and the mid-day sunny and warm. Out 

 of the rosy east the morning sun sent long mellow shafts of 

 gold aslant the autumn-tinted foliage along the creek bank. 

 The hills on the far side were clothed in a rich-hued garb that 

 formed a fitting frame to the glorious panorama stretching 



[115] 



