In the Lake Country 107 
cells, or the pastoral ants herding their aphid 
flocks on the maples upon the lawn; leisure to 
watch the opening bud, the expanding petal, 
the maturing fruit, and to gather at last— 
leisurely enough in morning hours—the ap- 
ples and pears and grapes and to receive in 
turn those charming and fleeting impressions, 
more exquisite even than perfume or bloom, 
which are the best part of the flower and 
the fruit. 
A lawn with spreading elms and maples, and 
foxgloves blooming in the shade, a garden 
patch and orchard—here is a mellow little 
summer world congenial to the Arcadian man. 
Every apple tree has its robin’s nest and in 
little pear trees the yellow warbler builds. 
Orioles never fail to nest in the elms; cat- 
birds and songsparrows in the hedge; meadow 
larks, vesper sparrows, and bobolinks in the 
hayfield. The mining bees have their bur- 
rows by the side of the gravelly paths; ma- 
son bees appropriate nail holes and chinks; 
squirrels nest in the tops of the maples, and 
grackles in the pines—all seem domesticated 
together, leading not nomadic but pastoral 
lives. The hum of bees about old-fashioned 
flowers and the peaceful voice of the red- 
eye in the tree tops are the natural and fit- 
