A HERMIT FOR THE DAY. 235 



scarcely a dozen rods between us, but that much 

 of my journey was not to be accomplished. A 

 huge old maple had fallen across the road, the 

 course of a little creek had recently been changed, 

 and bees were swarming about the hollow tree. 

 It was plain that I must seek a new hermitage. 

 But why any particular spot ? There was no tree 

 so inhospitable as to refuse me a shelter. But 

 why seek shelter at all, under an unclouded sky ? 

 Placing my burdens on a mossy knoll, I sat 

 down. Now, I thought, I am a hermit, and per- 

 haps a fool. The latter thought nettled me, but 

 what could I do ? Still I vowed that I would 

 not return empty-handed. I had met Nature 

 half-way ; would she make like advances ? 



Click-click-clatter, so it sounded, and I cut 

 my meditations short. The work of the hermit 

 was, I hoped, about to commence. Chatter, 

 clatter, everywhere, as if every twig were busy ; 

 nor was all this varied volume of sound derived 

 from but one source. There were squirrels over- 

 head, and chipmunks among the dead leaves. 

 Two downy woodpeckers were scanning, in close 

 company, the dead limb of an old oak, and flit- 

 ting everywhere were scores of kinglets and 

 warblers. A host of tree-sparrows and white- 

 throated finches filled the chinkapin shrubbery ; 

 while, dearest of all, a brave black- capped tit- 

 mouse came almost within reach, looked me 



