ream, near at hand to the village,
than to fill a basket from some far-famed and well-stocked water. It
is the unexpected touch that tickles our sense of pleasure. While life
lasts, we are always hoping for it and expecting it. There is no country
so civilized, no existence so humdrum, that there is not room enough in
it somewhere for a lazy, idle brook, an encourager of indolence, with
hope of happy surprises.

THE OPEN FIRE

"It is a vulgar notion that a fire is only for heat. A
chief value of it is, however, to look at. And it is never
twice the same."

--CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER: Backlog Studies.

I. LIGHTING UP

Man is the animal that has made friends with the fire.

All the other creatures, in their natural state, are afraid of it. They
look upon it with wonder and dismay. It fascinates them, sometimes,
with its glittering eyes in the night. The squirrels and the hares come
pattering softly towards it through the underbrush around the new camp.
The fascinated deer stares into the blaze of the jack-light while the
hunter's canoe creeps through the lily-pads. But the charm that masters
them is one of dread, not of love. It is the witchcraft of the serpent's
lambent look. When they know what it means, when the heat of the
fire touches them, or even when its smell comes clearly to their most
delicate sense, they recognize it as their enemy, the Wild Huntsman
whose red hounds can follow, follow for days without wearying, growing
stronger and more furious with every turn of the chase. Let but a trail
of smoke drift down the wind across the forest, and all the game for
miles and miles will catch the signal for fear and flight.

Many of the animals have learned how to make houses for themselves.
The CABANE of the beaver is a wonder of neatness and comfort, much
preferable to the wigwam of his Indian hunter. The muskrat knows how
thick and high to build the dome of his waterside cottage, in order to
protect himself against the frost of the coming winter and the floods of
the following spring. The woodchuck's house has two or three doors; and
the squirrel's dwelling is provided with a good bed and a convenient
storehouse for nuts and acorns. The sportive otters have a toboggan
slide in front of their residence; and the moose in winter make a
"yard," where they can take exercise comfortably and find shelter for
sleep. But there is one thing lacking in all these various dwellings,--a