CH geegee-lokh-sis. 1 45 



pine, planted, as were the blackberry vines, by birds 

 that stopped to rest a moment on the old fence or 

 to satisfy their curiosity. Stout young trees had 

 crowded it aside and broken it. Here and there a 

 leaning post was overgrown with woodbine. The 

 rails were gray and moss-grown. Nature was try- 

 ing hard to make it a bit of the landscape ; it could 

 not much longer retain its individuality. The wild 

 things of the woods had long accepted it as theirs, 

 though not quite as they accepted the vines and 

 trees. 



As I sat there a robin hurled himself upon it 

 from the top of a young cedar where he had been, 

 a moment before, practising his mating song. He 

 did not intend to light, but some idle curiosity, like 

 my own, made him pause a moment on the old gray 

 rail. Then a woodpecker lit on the side of a post, 

 and sounded it softly. But he was too near the 

 ground, too near his enemies to make a noise ; so 

 he flew to a higher perch and beat a tattoo that made 

 the woods ring. He was safe there, and could make 

 as much noise as he pleased. A wood-mouse stirred 

 the vines and appeared for an instant on the lower 

 rail, then disappeared as if very much frightened at 

 having shown himself in the sunlight. He always 

 does just so at his first appearance. 



Presently a red squirrel rushes out of the thicket 



