Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



as suggestive of poetry as the transient thrush 

 is of a summer song; yet we are apt to pass 

 them by as mere chance markings of the im- 

 pressionable soil, and proceed in thought to 

 other and less weighty matters. Let us give 

 over for the present contemplation of " foot- 

 prints in the sands of Time" and consider those 

 in a narrow strip of mud. To decipher them, 

 is no easy task. The hunter may know the 

 tracks of the game he seeks but here have 

 passed small deer quite beneath his notice ; and 

 let it ever be borne in mind by him who loves 

 an outing that where everything is tame, the 

 interest decreases with the size of the foot- 

 prints. Persecuted game and persecuting gun- 

 ners are alike unattractive. The one has lost 

 through fear all its naturalness, the other his 

 better elements of humanity, so we will dismiss 

 them for the present. 



The foot-prints before me now are in such be- 

 wildering confusion that to report them all is 

 impossible, but here is the impress of a large 

 turtle's foot and clearly a tail mark besides. 

 Crossing its trail, a meadow mouse has hurried 

 by. Beyond, a little way, a small snake has 

 crawled ashore and in its course, partly rubbed 



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