seemed not to approve of my presence, for he
frequently uttered a sharp, quick, angry noise, like that of a
scissors-grinder's wheel. Sometimes I could see him sitting on an
impending bough, with his tail over his back, looking down pryingly upon
me. It seems to be a natural posture with him, to sit on his hind legs,
holding up his forepaws. Anon, with a peculiarly quick start, he would
scramble along the branch, and be lost to sight in another part of the
tree, whence his shrill chatter would again be heard. Then I would see
him rapidly descending the trunk, and running along the ground; and a
moment afterwards, casting my eye upward, I beheld him flitting like a
bird among the high limbs at the summit, directly above me. Afterwards,
he apparently became accustomed to my society, and set about some
business of his. He came down to the ground, took up a piece of a
decayed bough, (a heavy burden for such a small personage,) and, with
this in his mouth, again climbed up, and passed from the branches of one
tree to those of another, and thus onward and onward till he went out of
sight. Shortly afterwards he returned for another burden, and this he
repeated several times. I suppose he was building a nest,--at least, I
know not what else could have been his object. Never was there such an
active, cheerful, choleric, continually-in-motion fellow as this little
red squirrel, talking to himself, chattering at me, and as sociable in
his own person as if he had half a dozen companions, instead of being
alone in the lonesome wood. Indeed, he flitted about so quickly, and
showed himself in different places so suddenly, that I was in some doubt
whether there were not two or three of them.

I must mention again the very beautiful effect produced by the masses of
berry-bushes, lying like scarlet islands in the midst of withered
pasture-ground, or crowning the tops of barren hills. Their hue, at a
distance, is lustrous scarlet, although it does not look nearly as
bright and gorgeous when examined close at hand. But at a proper
distance it is a beautiful fringe on Autumn's petticoat.

* * * * *

_Friday, October 22._--A continued succession of unpleasant, Novembery
days, and Autumn has made rapid progress in the work of decay. It is now
somewhat of a rare good fortune to find a verdant, grassy spot, on some
slope, or in a dell; and even such seldom-seen oases are bestrewn with
dried brown leaves,--which,