alls. I have not yet found its nest, but it must be near
the streams, for it never leaves them.

_June 30._ Half cloudy, half sunny, clouds lustrous white. The tall
pines crowded along the top of the Pilot Peak Ridge look like six-inch
miniatures exquisitely outlined on the satiny sky. Average cloudiness
for the day about .25. No rain. And so this memorable month ends, a
stream of beauty unmeasured, no more to be sectioned off by almanac
arithmetic than sun-radiance or the currents of seas and rivers--a
peaceful, joyful stream of beauty. Every morning, arising from the death
of sleep, the happy plants and all our fellow animal creatures great and
small, and even the rocks, seemed to be shouting, "Awake, awake,
rejoice, rejoice, come love us and join in our song. Come! Come!"
Looking back through the stillness and romantic enchanting beauty and
peace of the camp grove, this June seems the greatest of all the months
of my life, the most truly, divinely free, boundless like eternity,
immortal. Everything in it seems equally divine--one smooth, pure, wild
glow of Heaven's love, never to be blotted or blurred by anything past
or to come.

_July 1._ Summer is ripe. Flocks of seeds are already out of their cups
and pods seeking their predestined places. Some will strike root and
grow up beside their parents, others flying on the wings of the wind far
from them, among strangers. Most of the young birds are full feathered
and out of their nests, though still looked after by both father and
mother, protected and fed and to some extent educated. How beautiful the
home life of birds! No wonder we all love them.

[Illustration: DOUGLAS SQUIRREL OBSERVING BROTHER MAN]

I like to watch the squirrels. There are two species here, the large
California gray and the Douglas. The latter is the brightest of all the
squirrels I have ever seen, a hot spark of life, making every tree
tingle with his prickly toes, a condensed nugget of fresh mountain vigor
and valor, as free from disease as a sunbeam. One cannot think of such
an animal ever being weary or sick. He seems to think the mountains
belong to him, and at first tried to drive away the whole flock of
sheep as well as the shepherd and dogs. How he scolds, and what faces he
makes, all eyes, teeth, and whiskers! If not so comically small, he
would indeed be a dreadful fellow. I should like to know more about his
bringing up, his life in the home knot-hole, as well as in the
tree-tops, t