A SQUIRREL'S PANIC. 143 



by my choice of a couch. Evidently the green 

 tent above my head was their chosen tree, and 

 they could not give it up. Finding me perfectly 

 silent, they would come, perch in various parts 

 of the branches, and turn their wise-looking 

 black spectacles down to look at me, keeping up 

 an animated conversation the while. We call 

 the cedar-bird silent because he has, as generally 

 supposed, but one low note ; but he can put into 

 that one an almost infinite variety of expres- 

 sions. If I so much as moved a hand, instantly 

 my Quaker-clad friends dived off the tree below 

 the bank across the road, as if, in their despair, 

 they had flung themselves madly into the brook 

 at the bottom. But I did not suspect them of 

 so rash an act, and, indeed, in a few minutes 

 the apple-tree again resounded with their cries. 



Meanwhile the sun marched relentlessly on, 

 and the shadows without and the feelings within 

 alike pointed to the dinner hour (12 M.). I 

 rose, and thereby created a panic in my small 

 world. Six cedar-birds disappeared over the 

 bank, a song sparrow flew shrieking across the 

 field, a squirrel interrupted in his investigations 

 fled madly along the rail fence, every few steps 

 stopping an instant, with hindquarters laid flat 

 and tail resting on the rail, to see if his head 

 was still safe on his shoulders. 



I gathered up my belongings and sauntered 



