ime; then he stirred a little as if hope were
reviving. Then he looked nervously about him; then he had recovered
himself so far as to change his position. Presently he began to move
cautiously along the branch to the bole of the tree; then, after a few
moments' delay, he plucked up courage to descend to the ground, where I
hope no weasel has disturbed him since.

One season a chipmunk had his den in the side of the terrace above my
garden, and spent the mornings laying in a store of corn which he stole
from a field ten or twelve rods away. In traversing about half this
distance, the little poacher was exposed; the first cover on the way
from his den was a large maple, where he always brought up and took a
survey of the scene. I would see him spinning along toward the maple,
then from it by an easy stage to the fence adjoining the corn; then back
again with his booty. One morning I paused to watch him more at my
leisure. He came up out of his retreat and cocked himself up to see what
my motions meant. His forepaws were clasped to his breast precisely as
if they had been hands, and the tips of the fingers thrust into his vest
pockets. Having satisfied himself with reference to me, he sped on
toward the tree. He had nearly reached it, when he turned tail and
rushed for his hole with the greatest precipitation. As he neared it, I
saw some bluish object in the air closing in upon him with the speed of
an arrow, and, as he vanished within, a shrike brought up in front of
the spot, and with spread wings and tail stood hovering a moment, and,
looking in, then turned and went away. Apparently it was a narrow escape
for the chipmunk, and, I venture to say, he stole no more corn that
morning. The shrike is said to catch mice, but it is not known to attack
squirrels. The bird certainly could not have strangled the chipmunk, and
I am curious to know what would have been the result had he overtaken
him. Probably it was only a kind of brag on his part--a bold dash where
no risk was run. He simulated the hawk, the squirrel's real enemy, and
no doubt enjoyed the joke.

The sylvan folk seem to know when you are on a peaceful mission, and are
less afraid than usual. Did not that marmot to-day guess my errand did
not concern him as he saw me approach there from his cover in the
bushes? But, when he saw me pause and deliberately seat myself on the
stone wall immediately over his hole, his confidence was much shaken. He
apparently delibe