IN THE MOUNT HOPE LANDS 



73 



paths among the bay bushes one often 

 meets a hne of cows approaching in single 

 file face to face. If their leader happens 

 to be considerate of a wayfarer and breaks 

 through the bushes to one side, well and 

 good ; but if they hold their ground, one 

 must retreat to the first offshoot from the 

 path or scramble out of the way into a 

 tangle of brier and bush, a far from pleas- 

 ant proceeding. Here crows are plentiful, 

 and a "cotton-tail" disappearing in the 

 underbrush is of common occurrence, but 

 seldom is it more than a tail. The 

 " Junipers " were more quiet than 

 usual on those three days; the 

 brown thrashers and cat-birds had 

 not arrived, and cows and crows 

 held undisputed sway. To fol- 

 low the path along the cliff's edge 

 meant seeing a kingfisher or two, 

 while far out over the water a few 

 gulls and fish-hawks sailed to and 

 fro. At the northern end of the 

 " Junipers " one emerges sharply 

 into the pastures of an old Rhode Island 

 farm, and the crossing of the stone wall 

 that bounds the woods seems like stepping 

 out of darkness into light. A flock of 



