THROUGH THE WOODS. 



The great trees tower above ns, — giant chestnuts, 

 sturdy oaks and, here and there, a pine that had the 

 temerity to cast its lot with the others. Under foot is a 

 covering of dead leaves and club mosses, partridge vines, 

 chestnut burrs, and here and there a delicate, pink moc- 

 casin-flower with broad green leaves sheathing the flower 

 stem. 



Sharp-voiced warblers flit about everywhere; from a 

 distance comes the rasping song of the brilliant tanager, 

 while from nearly overhead sounds the sweeter, more 

 melodious tune of a handsome grosbeak; on the side hill 

 we hear the rolling, descending notes of a Veery, while 

 down by the brook a Wood Thrush sings intermittantly ; 

 a self-satisfied vireo sings so incessantly that we become 

 heartily tired of the song, pretty as it is. An Ovenbird 

 dashes out from under foot and discloses a handsome 

 arched nest containing five frail eggs. Out from under a 

 fallen tree a grouse speeds away with a thunderous roar, 

 leaving behind in a leafy hollow fourteen yellowish-brown 

 treasures. 



B-irds and flowers are forgotten for a time when we 

 happen to lean against a tall decayed stub of a tree. We 

 see something apparently fall from the top like a bit of 

 bark but instead of landing at the foot of the stump as 

 it properly should under the influence of gravity, it falls 

 in an oblique direction and finally reaches the foot of a 

 neighboring tree. Of course we can see now that the 

 supposed bit of bark is 



THE FLYING SQUIRREL. 



These little fellows are so very nocturnal in their habits 

 that they are seldom seen during daylight unless they are 

 routed out of their hiding places, and then only in the short 

 space of time it takes them to reach another tree and 

 clamber up. 



