ou are a worthy but often a pretty
stupid set. Little Hyla in February, August, and December cries _Peep,
peep, peep!_ to you. But his cry to me in February is _Spring, spring,
spring!_ And in December--it depends; for I cannot see with my eyes alone,
nor hear with my ears, nor feel with my fingers only. You can, and so
could Peter Bell. To-day I saw and heard and felt the world all gray and
hushed and shrouded; and little Hyla, speaking out of the silence and
death, called _Cheer, cheer, cheer!_"

II

It is not because the gate is strait and the way narrow that so few get
into the kingdom of the Out-of-Doors. The gate is wide and the way is
broad. The difficulty is that most persons go in too fast.

If I were asked what virtue, above all others, one must possess in order
to be shown the mysteries of the kingdom of earth and sky, I should say,
there are several; I should not know which to name first. There are,
however, two virtues very essential and very hard to acquire, namely, the
ability to keep quiet and to stand still.

Last summer a fox in two days took fifteen of my chickens. I saw the
rascal in broad day come down the hill to the chicken-yard. I greatly
enjoy the sight of a wild fox; but fifteen chickens a sight was too high a
price. So I got the gun and chased about the woods half the summer for
another glimpse of the sinner's red hide. I saw him one Sunday as we were
driving into the wood road from church; but never a week-day sight for all
my chasing.

Along in the early autumn I got home one evening shortly after sundown. I
had left several cocks of hay spread out in the little meadow, and though
it was already pretty damp, I took the fork, went down, and cocked it up.

Returning, I climbed by the narrow, winding path through the pines, out
into the corner of my pasture. It was a bright moonlight night, and
leaning back upon the short-handled fork, I stopped in the shadow of the
pines to look out over the softly lighted field.

Off in the woods a mile away sounded the deep, mellow tones of two
foxhounds. Day and night all summer long I had heard them, and all summer
long I had hurried to this knoll and to that for a shot. But the fox
always took the other knoll.

The echoing cries of the dogs through the silent woods were musical. Soon
they sounded sharp and clear--the hounds were crossing an open stretch
leading down to the meadow behind me. As I leaned, listening, I heard near
by a low, uneasy