192 THE DEAD LEAVES FALL 



grey against a background of black. That is uncom- 

 fortable and apparently fruitless. Now he peeps out 

 from behind an Elm, so close that the round of his 

 bright, black eye can be clearly discerned. He moves 

 around out of sight, hides a moment, then flits away 

 behind a dense clump of Cedars. Again the damp 

 stillness settles down. It is strange how the departure 

 of such a tiny atom of life could have made such a 

 change. 



A pea gall drops from a clinging leaf high amongst 

 the thinning branches and rolls over the wet ground. 

 The tiny insect that has constructed for itself this 

 little spherical habitation at the expense of the oak 

 leaf is prepared for a long hybernation. It will lie 

 among the fallen leaves all winter and will not 

 respond to the returning warmth of spring. Then 

 its pea-like habitation will have lost its fresh colour, 

 but will still contain the microscopic spark of life. 

 It will thus inertly survive the summer and the 

 succeeding winter, to come forth on the following 

 spring, mingling with the myriad insect life of the 

 woods. 



The young hemlocks spread out like umbrellas, 

 making convenient resting-places during the inter- 

 mittent showers. In the darkest shade the matted 

 twigs and needles bear the record of a forest tragedy. 

 Tiny feathers are scattered about, tail and wing 

 quills, and lighter airy down that can scarcely be 



