How Animals Talk 



seeking something and finding it not, they dis- 

 appeared in the dusky woods. 



And so I went away, looking for the last time 

 sadly on the little pond, as upon a place one has 

 owned and loved, but which has passed into other 

 hands. Though the wild ducks still breed or 

 gather there, it is no longer the same. There is 

 no restful spot from which to watch the waters 

 dance with the wind, or frown at the cloud, or 

 smile at the sunshine; the little larches are all 

 dead beside their ancestors ; the carpet of colored 

 moss is but a memory. When the beavers go to 

 pioneer a remoter spot, I shall break their dam 

 and let the water return to its ancient level. 

 Then, if happily I live long enough for another 

 fringe of larches to grow, and another mossy rug 

 to crimson under the waning sun, perhaps it will 

 be my pond once more. 



THE END 



