140 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. 
or three rods away, when he very cautiously crept 
under cover. 
Several red squirrels interested me by their lively 
antics. They were running on the zigzag rail fence, 
then up and down this tree and that, then sometimes 
passing from one tree top to another, cackling and 
chattering and barking like little dogs. They lived in 
the barn during the winter, and are as much at home 
here as are the cat and dog, which are too fat and lazy 
to catch them. When I was here last fall, it seemed 
that there was a squirrel for each tree. They made a 
business of throwing apples from the tall trees, on the 
house, into the grass and walks, and sometimes on per- 
sons’ heads. They seemed to be doing it for fun, in 
very wantonness, as bushels which were thrown down 
were unbitten, but the old gentleman would not let the 
boys shoot them. He said, “there was fruit enough for 
all, and the squirrels were only helping to gather his 
cider apples.” 
"Paradoxical as it may seem, when I came away from 
the old orchard I left the flowers and singing birds, all 
the pretty nests and frolicsome squirrels just as I found 
them. Still, I brought them away with me, and have 
added them to my valuable collection—a collection 
whose preservation requires neither alcohol nor arsenic. 
