300 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



spot near the spring and acted just as strangely as be- 

 fore. This more strongly than ever aroused my curi- 

 osity, and I resumed the search. After several minutes 

 I at length touched with my foot an enormous bull- 

 frog, which gave a mighty leap and a loud grunt expres- 

 sive of displeasure. It had been squatting closely in 

 what was evidently a tattler's nest, a structure identical 

 with those of the common spotted sand-piper I had of- 

 ten found. This threw some light on the mystery. 

 The frog had been up to mischief, and the distressed 

 wood-tattler was the sufferer. I captured the criminal, 

 which was suspiciously aldermanic, and dissection proved 

 that it had swallowed four young tattlers, just emerged 

 from the shell. 



Eunning my boat under a cluster of hornbeams, 

 draped with Virginia creeper and daintily trimmed with 

 feathery thalictrum, I was quite concealed even from 

 any inquisitive creatures that might pass, and yet could 

 assume a comfortable position, as was far from being 

 the case when watching the wood-tattler. 



Here, with birds, trees, flowers, and rippling waters, I 

 proposed to take the world very easily and pursue the 

 most delightful occupation that is possible for man — to 

 follow the whim of the moment. 



Feeling equally ready to meet and discuss a mam- 

 moth or a mouse, a heron or a humming-bird, I was 

 certain not to be disappointed whatever appeared, and 

 in the course of half an hour it proved to be a mouse. 

 From the opposite bank of the creek it crept slowly 

 over the muddy shore left bare by the receding tide, and 



