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 



