THE WOODS. 



119 



who made the notches, still visible even in their decay, 

 in which the upper ones rested. It is interesting to 

 notice the different kinds of timber used for rails in 

 those days. Some are of walnut, actually fine black 

 walnut that split, and used for rails; some are of elm, 

 or of black locust, and perhaps there are a few oak 

 rails among them; but not many other kinds of wood 

 will last so long, for these fences were built over fifty 

 years ago, and yet serve their purpose to mark out 

 the limits. Generally just the best were employed, and 

 those only that split. Hickory, ash, and poplar, how- 

 ever, were also used for rails — anything that split 

 easily — and only the straightest of those. 



Do you hear it — that sweet, clear whistle from the 

 brush? There is something very romantic in the call 

 of the quail. I remember how as a boy I used to listen 

 to it with a thrill of delight. It seemed the very em- 

 bodiment of all the wild life of the woods — Bob JFhite! 

 Bob White! Bob, Bob White! And it still inspires 

 me when I hear it. 



As I step quietly among the trees, the frisking and 

 sudden barking of a squirrel there on the black walnut 

 set me all a-tremble, and I softly approach closer to 

 watch him. It seems, at this instant, as if all the ex- 

 perience of past generations has all at once come upon 

 me — their pioneer life, their daring, adventurous ex- 

 ploring of the wilderness, rifle in hand. In search, too, 

 for a hunt after the game; and perhaps, more than that, 

 an unconquerable, ineradicable savagery antedating 

 even their Intrepid quests; an untamed, primitive, na- 

 tive sense of the wild! Is It that, or what is It, that 

 now surges and surges through my blood ? I can not 



