228 IN AUTUMN. 



phenomenon as this. You will stir the lurking 

 critic in his den if you do, and what a fell catas- 

 trophe ! 



But to-day, October 3d, the dry spots are to 

 be looked for, so scattered are they, and practi- 

 cally everywhere are sparkling globules of pure 

 water. Finding the world so, it becomes the es- 

 sential business of the rambler to determine its 

 effects. Are the birds chilled to silence ? Does 

 the field-mouse shiver in his grassy nest? I 

 think not. Often have I wished to detect some 

 marked evidence of the influence of dew, but my 

 sluggish senses have failed me. Up from the 

 glistening expanse of weedy meadows comes the 

 blithe song of the sparrow ; out from the misty 

 depths of the river valley floats the triumphant 

 cawing of the crow. The bluebird greets the 

 dawn with prophetic warble, promising the 

 brightness of summer when the dew has gone ; 

 and chill though the night has been, the twitter- 

 ing swifts are alert and aloft at day- break. 

 Whether there be dew or none, it seems to mat- 

 ter nothing to the birds. But it is a veritable tell- 

 tale so far as the early stirring mammals are con- 

 cerned. They can never move so daintily that the 

 dew-drops are not brushed aside, and the long 

 lines of swept herbage stand out in boldest relief 

 as the sun-light sweeps across the field. One can 

 now track the belated creature to his home. 



