132 



WANDERINGS IN 



Second watcli iiie ill your woods only for one day. I never wound 



Journey. 



your healthy trees. I should perish for want in the at- 

 tempt. The sound bark would easily resist the force of 

 my bill, and were I even to pierce through it, there would 

 be nothing inside that I could fancy, or my stomach 

 digest. I often visit them it is true, but a knock or two 

 convince me that I must go elsewhere for support ; and 

 were you to listen attentively to the sound which my bill 

 causes, you would know whether I am upon a healthy, or 

 an unhealthy tree. Wood and bark are not my food. I 

 live entirely upon the insects which have already formed 

 a lodgement in the distempered tree. When the sound 

 informs me that my prey is there, I labour for hours to- 

 gether, till I get at it ; and by consuming it, for my own 

 support, I prevent its further depredations in that part. 

 Thus I discover for you your hidden and unsuspected foe, 

 ■ which has been devouring your wood in such secrecy, that 

 you had not the least suspicion it Avas there. The hole 

 which I make, in order to get at the pernicious vermin, 

 will be seen by you as you pass under the tree. I leave 

 it as a signal to tell you, that your tree has already stood 

 too long. It is past its prime. Millions of insects, en- 

 gendered by disease, are preying upon its vitals. Ere 

 long it will fall a log in useless ruins. Warned by this 

 loss, cut down the rest in time, and spare, O spare, the 

 unoffending Woodpecker." 



The King- In the rivcrs, and different creeks, you number six 



fisher. 



