MOORLAND IDYLLS. 



yards off, the whole summer through, croon- 

 ing its passionate song, full in view of our 

 house, from a gnarled old fir-tree. So 

 again this morning, at breakfast, we raised 

 our eyes from the buttered eggs and coffee, 

 and they fell at once on a big green wood- 

 pecker, creeping upward, after his fashion, 

 along a russet-brown pine-trunk, not fifteen 

 feet from the place at table where we were 

 quietly sitting. One could make out with 

 the naked eye the dark olive-green of his 

 back, relieved by the brilliant crimson patch 

 on his gleaming crown. For several minutes 

 he stood there, clambering slowly up the 

 tree, though we rose from our seats and 

 approached quite close to the open window 

 to examine him. When he turned his head, 

 and listened intently after his tapping, with 

 that characteristic air of philosophic inquiry 

 which marks his species, the paler green of 

 his under parts flashed for a second upon 

 us ; and when at last, having satisfied himself 

 there was nothing astir under the bark of 

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