64 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 



child's tale came back with a rush to memory, 

 for I had read and re-read it when my age was 

 seven ; though I had never since met with it in 

 the hundreds of boxes of old books turned over in 

 my time, or in any collection of children's books 

 of the early nineteenth century. I once made a 

 small collection of such literature myself, and 

 others have collected and still collect it in a large 

 way. I sometimes wonder why some enterprising 

 publisher doesn't start an Every Child's Library, 

 and rescue many of the most charming of these 

 small publications from total oblivion. Un- 

 doubtedly he would find the best period was from 

 1800 to about 1840. 



Once upon a time — so ran the story as I remem- 

 bered it, and retold it to myself while walking on — 

 a squirrel lived in a wood, as plump and playful 

 and happy a squirrel as one would wish to see. He 

 had a favourite tree, an old giant oak, which was 

 his home, and when summer was nearing its end 

 he began to amuse himself by making a warm nest 

 in a cavity down at the roots ; also by hoarding a 

 quantity of hazel-nuts, which were plentiful just 

 then in the wood. This he did, not because he 

 had any reason for doing it, or thought there was 

 any use in it, but solely because it was an old time- 

 honoured custom of the squirrel tribe to do these 

 things. 



While occupied in this way he all at once 

 became aware of a new restlessness and excite- 

 ment among the birds, and when he asked his 



