ness and flavor after it had extensively streams of the northwest. At such 



fed upon the wild oats of the north and times thr flavor of their flesh is far from 



west or soaked rice in the fields of Geor- attractive. On the land, these beautiful 



gia or Carolina. Unfortunately it is said birds move with remarkable grace and 



that the Teals sometimes feed upon pu- ease which is quite, if not fully, equal to 



trid salmon, which they find in the the movements of the wood ducks. 



P'rank Morley Woodruff. 



THE FURIES' DAY. 



This day, oh ! my soul, is a wild, wild day. 



We'll off to the woods together. 

 We'll talk to the Spirit of all wild things, 



The Lord of Tempestuous Weather. 



He's loosed all the Furies, those creatures of air, 



And bid them make merry today — 

 Oh ! hark to their laughter, as shrieking with glee, 



They hurry along their mad way. 



They clasp the bare branches in icy embrace, 



As they wave their lean arms in the air, 

 Then fling them aside, in a fierce fit of rage. 



And are off at their wails of despair. 



The poor beaten birds seek for refuge and rest 



In the folds of the pine tree's gown, 

 And huddle and peep in a pitiful way, 

 As the Furies come swooping down. 



They poke their long fingers in woodpeckers' holes, 



And into the squirrel's nest ; 

 They whistle and wail through the hollow halls 



Where the owls take their daily rest. 



The dead leaves are driven before their cold breath, 



And singing their shivering song, 

 To the warm little hooks, at the foot of the trees, 



Are hurriedly blown along. 



The gay little brook now lies wrapt in its shroud, 



And hushed is its gurgling note. 

 The Furies swept by, and with savage delight. 



They flew at its musical throat. 



Ah ! soul, we must hasten, for death's in the wood, 



So we'll quietly steal away 

 From the sobs and the shrieks of the suffering wild. 



For this is the Furies' Day. 



— Bessie Andrews Dana. 



