296 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



At the upper margin of the loose, red earth, that near- 

 est the unsheltered field above, the frost had lifted sand- 

 grains and even pebbles from their beds, and wrought 

 many a winding cave, crystal grotto, and ravine ; but beau- 

 tiful as they Were, they smacked of winter, and I turned 

 my back upon them ; for scarcely more than a pace dis- 

 tant, this same red earth was carpeted with pink-fruited 

 lichen, and holding yet against the season's rigor was a 

 forest of sweet-fern. Here rested summer and winter face 

 to face, if not hand in hand. Summer, plucky to the last, 

 and not to be ousted — winter, impotent to harm, despite 

 its bluster. 



Such little spots are not uncommon, and interest the 

 more for that so many, like this road-side slope, have a 

 northern outlook, and the temperature, of course, falls 

 very low at times. To-day, when all is gloomily arctic in 

 the fields hard by, here is no hint save that of a genial 

 summer sun, for the sweet-fern although bronzed and 

 brittle has not yet wilted. Kecalling the birds and mice 

 that I had found on my way hither, the conditions at the 

 road-side contradicted -the general impression as to wild 

 life in winter. It does not always seek the more sheltered 

 places ; for, notwithstanding the northern exposure, this 

 was a sheltered spot; else why such vigorous growths? 

 Lichens, it is true, are unaffected by ordinary winter 

 weather, but besides this, there were other growths that 

 remained green and fresh as ever a plant in June — saxi- 

 frage, prince's pine, and Mitchella with its crimson ber- 

 ries. 



But animal life : there should have been an abundance 

 of it, I thought, coursing over such a cheerful scene, but I 

 could find spiders only, and very few of them. Hurry- 

 ing over the ground, they looked quite formidable, and 

 were doubtless indignant at my interference, but far too 

 timid to resent it. 



