THE VINTAGE OF TEE LEAVES . 173 
carcass of a freshly-killed red squirrel, although 
an abundance of clover and young vegetables 
were close at hand ready for his dinner. 
My walk took me up the western side of the 
lake to my own land and cottage. Robins rose 
from the ground in small flocks, a few tree 
sparrows and j uncos flew from a plowed field 
by the wall, and two crows were feeding on 
swampy ground by a brook. It was to them 
that the land really belonged, not to me, — a 
waif from the city. So a flock of white-throats 
thought, as I disturbed them feeding upon the 
chaff at the back door of my bam. They flew 
into a bush on which a few dry leaves swung. 
While still watching them, as I supposed, I dis¬ 
covered that they had vanished, the wagging 
leaves alone remaining. In the orchard a few 
red apples hung, and gleamed like polished 
stones. One which grew upon a wild tree in 
the edge of the wood swung near the ground, 
and sharp little teeth had bitten out pieces from 
its side. Some of the fruit which lay upon the 
ground had been gnawed away until its seeds 
could be reached. Man eats the pulp and 
throws away the seeds, the mice and squirrels 
waste the pericarp solely to gain the seeds. 
Perhaps in this case man would have thrown 
away both apple and seeds had he tasted the 
bitter, wild fruit. 
