are usually three--were plugged
up with stones. A boy and a dog were then left to watch the open hole,
while John and his comrades went to the brook and began to dig a canal,
to turn the water into the residence of the woodchuck. This was often a
difficult feat of engineering, and a long job. Often it took more than
half a day of hard labor with shovel and hoe to dig the canal. But when
the canal was finished and the water began to pour into the hole, the
excitement began. How long would it take to fill the hole and drown out
the woodchuck? Sometimes it seemed as if the hole was a bottomless pit.
But sooner or later the water would rise in it, and then there was sure
to be seen the nose of the woodchuck, keeping itself on a level with
the rising flood. It was piteous to see the anxious look of the hunted,
half-drowned creature as--it came to the surface and caught sight of
the dog. There the dog stood, at the mouth of the hole, quivering with
excitement from his nose to the tip of his tail, and behind him were the
cruel boys dancing with joy and setting the dog on. The poor creature
would disappear in the water in terror; but he must breathe, and out
would come his nose again, nearer the dog each time. At last the water
ran out of the hole as well as in, and the soaked beast came with it,
and made a desperate rush. But in a trice the dog had him, and the boys
stood off in a circle, with stones in their hands, to see what they
called "fair play." They maintained perfect "neutrality" so long as the
dog was getting the best of the woodchuck; but if the latter was likely
to escape, they "interfered" in the interest of peace and the "balance
of power," and killed the woodchuck. This is a boy's notion of justice;
of course, he'd no business to be a woodchuck,--an--unspeakable
woodchuck.

I used the word "aromatic" in relation to the New England soil. John
knew very well all its sweet, aromatic, pungent, and medicinal products,
and liked to search for the scented herbs and the wild fruits and
exquisite flowers; but he did not then know, and few do know, that there
is no part of the globe where the subtle chemistry of the earth produces
more that is agreeable to the senses than a New England hill-pasture and
the green meadow at its foot. The poets have succeeded in turning our
attention from it to the comparatively barren Orient as the land of
sweet-smelling spices and odorous gums. And it is indeed a constant
surprise that thi