DECEMBER 



Ah, the beautiful tree, the hemlock, with its 

 green canopy, under which little grows, not excit- 

 ing the cupidity of the carpenter, whose use most 

 men have not discovered. I know of some mem- 

 orable ones worth walking many miles to see. 

 These little cheerful hemlocks, the lisp of chicka- 

 dees seems to come from them now, each standing 

 with its foot on the very edge of the stream, 

 reaching sometimes part way over its channel, and 

 here and there one has lightly stepped across. 

 These evergreens are plainly as much for shelter 

 for the birds as for anything else. 



THOREAU: Autumn. 



The cawing of the crow resounds among the 

 woods. A sentinel is aware of your approach a 

 great way off, and gives the alarm to his comrades 

 loudly and eagerly, Caw, caw, caw ! Immedi- 

 ately the whole conclave replies, and you behold 

 them rising above the trees, flapping darkly, and 

 winging their way to deeper solitudes. Some- 

 times, however, they remain till you come near 

 enough to discern their sable gravity of aspect, 

 each occupying a separate bough, or perhaps the 

 blasted tip-top of a pine. As you approach, one 

 after another, with loud cawing, flaps his wings 

 and throws himself upon the air. 



HAWTHORNE : American Note-Books. 



