254 WILD NEIGHBORS CHAP. 
college, —as all the Wellesley girls of a few years 
ago are able to testify, regularly joining in the 
morning exercises with a clear soprano from the 
chapel lawn. 
Within a very few days the little ones are able 
to stumble down the long hallway that leads to 
their castle-door, and to open their brown eyes 
upon a beautiful green world preparing to greet 
the coming June. The breeze comes soft and 
odorous to the fresh nostrils that snuff it up like 
an elixir, shadows are trembling upon the emerald, 
edible sward, and an infinitude of music salutes 
the small ears that now for the first time may be 
opened, since there is no longer danger of dust 
falling into them. Clinging timorously to the 
brown fur of the mother, they trot and tumble 
after her, marvelling at everything, and halting in 
wonder as with every few steps she rears herself 
upon her haunches and gazes far and near over 
the heads of the blossoming grass. Some even 
try to imitate her, and, until they tumble backward, 
sit up with head on one side and ears pricked, 
pretending to listen most intently. By and by 
they will learn to discriminate, among the confused 
murmurs that tremble upon their ears, those that 
threaten from those meaning no harm. The 
farmer will tell you that no other animal has 
hearing so acute, enabling it to perceive noises 
that escape his notice altogether; yet their ears 
are small, seem muffled in fur, and may be 
