ON THE OLD DROVE ROAD. 15 



above the earth ; but over it all the firs 

 give forth a melancholy music as the wind 

 filters through the branches. That soughing, 

 sighing, never-ceasing lament makes one who 

 is over-sensitive "creep" and shiver. Its mono- 

 tony is bad for the nerves. The high notes 

 are like screeches from the drowning and de- 

 spairing. Then the shrill shrieks give place to 

 a mournful wail, which dies away in a low soft 

 moan. And again and again is this repeated. 

 No human voice could give utterance to such 

 sounds. 



" We are the voices of the wandering wind 

 Which moan for rest, and rest can never find ; 

 Lo ! as the wind is, so is moral life 

 A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife." 



A Squirrel runs out a branch, with his tail 

 carried in the orthodox fashion over his back ; 

 but it is not always thus. When running on 

 the ground he carries it straight out the same 

 as the Fox. He has been in a state of 



