2. Here a gray one has just passed,―came down that tree and went up this; there he dug for a beech-nut, and left the bur on the snow. How did he know where to dig? During an unusually severe winter I have known him to make long journeys to a barn, in a remote field, where wheat was stored. How did he know there was wheat there? In attempting to return, the adventurous creature was fre quently run down and caught in the deep snow.

3. His home is in the trunk of some old birch or maple, with an entrance far up amid the branches. In the spring he builds himself a summer-house of small leafy twigs in the top of a neighboring beech, where the young are reared, and much of the time passed. But the safer retreat in the maple is not abandoned, and both old and young resort thither in the fall, or when danger threatens. Whether this temporary residence amid the branches is for elegance or pleasure, or for sanitary reasons or domestic convenience, the naturalist has forgotten to mention.

4. The elegant creature, so cleanly in its habits, so graceful in its carriage, so nimble and daring in its movements, excites feelings of admiration akin to those awakened by the birds and the fairer forms of nature. His passage through the trees is almost a flight. Indeed, the flying squirrel has little or no advantage over him, and in speed and nimbleness cannot compare with him at all. If he miss his footing and fall, he is sure to catch on the next branch; if the connection be broken, he leaps recklessly for the nearest spray or limb, and secures his hold, even if it be by the aid

of his teeth.

5. His career of frolic and festivity begins in the fall, after the birds have left us and the holiday spirit of nature has commenced to subside. How absorbing the pastime of the sportsman, who goes to the woods in the still October morning in quest of him! You step lightly across the threshold of the forest, and sit down upon the first log or rock to await the signals. It is so still that the ear suddenly seems to have acquired new powers, and there is no movement to confuse the eye.

6. Presently you hear the rustling of a branch, and see it sway or spring as the squirrel leaps from or to it; or else

you hear a disturbance in the dry leaves, and mark one running upon the ground. He has probably seen the intruder, and, not liking his stealthy movements, desires to avoid a nearer acquaintance. Now he mounts a stump to see if the way is clear, then pauses a moment at the foot of a tree to take his bearings, his tail, as he skims along, undulating behind him, and adding to the easy grace and dignity of his

movements.

7. Or else you are first advised of his proximity by the dropping of a false nut, or the fragments of the shucks rattling upon the leaves. Or, again, after contemplating you awhile unobserved, and making up his mind that you are not dangerous, he strikes an attitude on a branch, and commences ta quack and bark, with an accompanying movement of his tail. Late in the afternoon, when the same stillness reigns, the same scenes are repeated. There is a black variety, quite rare, but mating freely with the gray, from which he seems to be distinguished only in color.

8. The track of the red squirrel may be known by its smaller size. He is more common and less dignified than the gray, and oftener guilty of petty larceny about the barns and grain-fields. He is most abundant in 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 retreat 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 appearance atones for all the mischief he does.

9. At home, in the woods, he is the most frolicsome and loquacious. The appearance of any thing unusual, if, after contemplating 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 derision, then hopping into a position on a limb and dancing 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.

10. It seems to be a sort of ironical laughter, and implies self-conscious pride and exultation in the laugher. "What a ridiculous 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 assumes a tone of good-natured, child-like defiance and derision; that pretty little imp, the chipmunk, will sit on the stone above his den, and defy you, as plainly as if he said so, to catch him before he can get into his hole if you can. You hurl a stone at him, and "No you didn't" comes up from the depth of his retreat.

XLV. THE CRICKET.

ANONYMOUS.

1. The cricket dwells in the cold, cold ground,
At the foot of the old oak tree,

And all through the lengthened Autumn night
A merry song sings he.

He whistles a clear and merry tune

By the sober light of the silver moon ;

The winds may moan

With a hollow tone

All through the leaves of the rustling tree,
The clouds may fly

Through the deep blue sky,

The flowers may droop and the brooklet sigh,

But never a fig cares he;

He whistles a clear and merry tune

By the sober light of the silver moon

All through the lengthened Autumn night,

And never a fig cares he.

2. There's a tiny cricket within thy heart,
And a pleasant song sings he;

He sings of the mercies and goodness of God
That hourly fall upon thee.

Let him whistle loud and clear,
Never drown him in a tear,

There's darkness enough on earth, I trow,
Without the gloom of a gloomy brow.
Darkness enough in the home of the poor,
That never comes to thy lofty door.

Forth with a smile

Their woe to beguile ;

Forth to lighten the heavy gloom;

Forth to brighten the clouded home

And cheer the soul that is shrouded in night;

Tell it, in tones of love,

Of hope on earth, and a land all bright

The Land of Life and Love,

And never fret that you can not get

Just what you want while you travel here.—
Then let him whistle loud and clear;
Never drown him in a tear;

But all through the length of trouble's night
Let him sing his merry song.

XLVI.-THREE WORDS OF STRENGTH.

SCHILLER.

1. There are three lessons I would writeThree words, as with a burning pen,

In tracings of eternal light,

Upon the hearts of men.

2. Have Hope. Though clouds environ round,
And gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put off the shadow from thy brow-
No night but hath its morn.

3. Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is drivenThe calm's disport, the tempest's mirthKnow this: God rules the hosts of heaven, The inhabitants of earth.

4. Have Love.

Not love alone for one;

But man, as man, thy brother call;
And scatter, like the circling sun,

Thy charities on all.

5. Thus grave these lessons on thy soul

Hope, Faith, and Love-and thou shalt find
Strength when life's surges rudest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind.

XLVII.-RAIN AND SUNSHINE.

C. C. FELTON.

1. Well, here we are on the ground sacred to Leonidas and the three hundred Spartans; within ten feet of the hot springs from which this famous pass take its name.

2. We left the village of Drachmans this morning, with heavy clouds threatening to accompany us on our way. Showery Jupiter sat enthroned on Parnassus, and, as we ascended the opposite range of mountains, he hit my nose with a single drop, perhaps expecting that, like the Greeks of old, we should postpone our journey to avert the omen. But we kept on and up in spite of all his warnings and threats.

3. We had a gloriously dark and frowning view of Parnassus, as we left it, and showery Jupiter was as good as his word; for when we had got fairly entangled in the mazes of the Œtian range, down came a shower, the like of which we seldom see in our unpoetical latitudes. But the scenery all around us—the bare and desolate peaks, the wild ravines, the foaming streams that started like racers on their course, the many-tinted oak and plane-tree, the evergreens on the mountain-side, and the fiercely careering clouds, so unlike our dreams of the classic beauty of Greece-was splendid.

4. On we went, regardless of the rain,-all except Walnut, the dog, who seemed greatly chagrined. Walnut is a dog of taste; has made the tour several times; takes a special pleasure in showing off his country to foreign travelers,