et them in their own domain and
let them have their way with us. Then, indeed, they sweep us out of
ourselves for a season, and that is good.

We came out from the thickets on a high, brushy field, sheeted in fine
rain that dimmed even the near wood edges. Blackberries grew thick, and
we made our way carefully among the briers, following the narrow and
devious cow-paths. Suddenly we both stopped. Just ahead of us, under a
blackberry bush, was a huge snapping-turtle. He was standing on his hind
legs, with his fore legs resting on a branch loaded with fruit, his
narrow dark head stretched far up and out, while he quietly ate berry
after berry. He was a handsome fellow, with his big black shell all
brilliant in the wetness of the rain. As he worked we could see his
under side, and notice how it shaded to yellow along the sutures. It was
a scene of contentment, and the berries, dripping with fresh raindrops,
looked luscious indeed as he feasted.

We stood and watched him for a while, and I got an entirely new idea of
turtles. Turtles usually have too much reserve, too much
self-consciousness, too little _abandon_, and I had never seen one so
"come out of himself," literally and figuratively, as this fellow did.
It made me want to follow up the acquaintance, this happy chance of
finding him, so to speak, in his cups; but I repressed the desire,
feeling that he might not share it, and we carefully backed away and
went around by another path so as not to disturb the reveler. He never
knew how much pleasure he had given as well as received.

Into the woods again-- "Look out!" said Jonathan. "Don't step on the
lizards!"

He stooped and picked up one, which struck an attitude among his
dripping fingers--sleek back a little arched, legs in odd, uncouth
positions, tail set stiffly in a queer curve. They are brilliant little
creatures, with their clear orange-red coats, scarlet-spotted, like a
trout.

"Pretty little chap, isn't he?" said Jonathan.

"Stylish," I said, "but foolish. They never do anything that I can see,
except attitudinize.

"But they do a great deal of that," said Jonathan, as he set him gently
down.

"Come on," I said; "I can't stand here being sentimental over your pets.
It's raining.

"Oh, if you'd like to _go_--" said Jonathan, and set a pace.

I followed hard, and we raced down through the empty woods, sliding over
the great wet rocks, rolling over black fallen tree trunks, our feet
sinking noisel