FIRESIDE MEMORIES. 



423 



finding a refuge where they could camp for one October afternoon beside the Platte, 

 the night, without being bombarded by Before my eyes there arises a moving pic- 

 shot guns from every clump of brush. hire of filtering morass, of gurgling water, 

 I might have forgotten the frequent of green hillocks, of tiny ponds, reflecting 



IN SEARCH OF A PLACE TO SPEND THE NIGHT. 



"scaip" of the jacksnipe, as he changed 

 from one part of the marsh to another in 

 search of a suitable place to spend the 

 night. 

 I might have forgotten the whistle of an 



the warm sunbeams ; of watercress sway- 

 ing in the current of a tributary brook ; of 

 rushes sheltered and banked with thickets 

 of willows, sumac and wild plum bushes ; 

 of the bright plumage of moving birds 



>h\^Mm 



occasional woodcock that seemed anxious 

 to be off to the South. 



I might have forgotten long lines and 

 clumps of birds that arose at daylight in the 

 morning and headed for the sunny South, 

 realizing that the winds had grown too 

 chill for them in this Northern region. 



But the silent watchers on the mantel 

 and on various brackets about the room, 

 recall all these things as the winds howl 

 over the prairie to-night. 



Especially vivid are the recollections of 



^sr 



HEADED FOR THE SUNNY SOUTH. 



mingled with the many hues of the foliage, 

 the brown, waving prairie grass and of late 

 blooming flowers. 



The notes of the purple grackle, the bob- 

 olink and the meadow lark, the clatter of 



