32 Ways of Wood Folk. 



the mystic charm of the wilderness and the quiet of a 

 summer day. 



This is the way it all looks and seems to me, sitting 

 over under the big hemlock, out of sight, and watch- 

 ing the birds through my field-glass. 



Day after day I have attended such little schools, 

 unseen and unsuspected by the mother bird. Some- 

 times it was the a-b-c class, wee little downy fellows, 

 learning to hide on a lily pad, and never getting a 

 reward of merit in the shape of a young trout till they 

 hid so well that the teacher (somewhat over-critical, I 

 thought) was satisfied. Sometimes it was the bacca- 

 laureates that displayed their talents to the unbidden 

 visitor, flashing out of sight, cutting through the water 

 like a ray of light, striking a young trout on the bottom 

 with the rapidity and certainty almost of the teacher. 

 It was marvelous, the diving and swimming; and 

 mother bird looked on and quacked her approval of 

 the young graduates. — That is another peculiarity: 

 the birds are dumb in winter; they find their voice 

 only for the young. 



While all this careful training is going on at home, 

 the drake is off on the lakes somewhere with his boon 

 companions, having a good time, and utterly neglect- 

 ful of parental responsibility. Sometimes I have 

 found clubs of five or six, gay fellows all, living by 

 themselves at one end of a big lake where the fish- 



