70 THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



old bark-peelings, and low, dilapidated hemlocks, from 

 which he makes excursions to the fields and orchards, 

 spinning along the tops of the fences, which afford, not 

 only convenient lines of communication, but a safe re- 

 treat if danger threatens. He loves to linger about the 

 orchard ; and, sitting upright on the topmost stone in 

 the wall, or on the tallest stake in the fence, chipping 

 up an apple for the seeds, his tail conforming to the 

 curve of his back, his paws shifting and turning the 

 apple, he is a pretty sight, and his bright, pert appear- 

 ance atones for all the mischief he does. At home, in 

 the woods, he is the most frolicsome and loquacious. 

 The appearance of anything unusual, if, after contem- 

 plating it a moment, he concludes it not dangerous, 

 excites his unbounded mirth and ridicule, and he 

 snickers and chatters, hardly able to contain himself; 

 now darting up the trunk of a tree and squealing in de- 

 rision, then hopping into position on a limb and dan- 

 cing to the music of his own cackle, and all for your 

 special benefit. 



There is something very human in this apparent 

 mirth and mockery of the squirrels. It seems to be a 

 sort of ironical laughter, and implies self-conscious 

 pride and exultation in the laugher. H What a ridic- 

 ulous thing you are, to be sure ! " he seems to say ; 

 " how clumsy and awkward, and what a poor show for 

 a tail ! Look at me, look at me ! " — and he capers 

 about in his best style. Again, he would seem to tease 

 you and to provoke your attention ; then suddenly as- 



