s, of different species
and among the rest, some of that species which goes by the name, among
children, of _black birch_. I need not tell any of my country readers
about this kind of birch. They know it well enough. They have eaten
birch bark, many a time; and, for ought I know, some of them have
felt a tingling sensation in the region of the back and legs, brought
about by the use of birch twigs in the hands of some schoolmaster.

Well, Moses Ramble was crossing Billy Birch's woods one day in the
spring of the year. For awhile, he whistled along, as merry-hearted as
the blue birds that had just returned from their southern tour, and
who were chirping on the branches over his head, breaking off, now and
then, a few sprigs of birch, from the trees along his path. By and
bye, he sat down on the fence, to rest himself, still going on with
his whistling, at intervals, when his mouth was not too much occupied
with the birch to interfere with the music.

[Illustration: THE BOY IN THE WOODS.]

While the merry young fellow was sitting here, feeling at peace with
all the world, and not dreaming but all the world was at peace with
him, he heard a slight rustling behind him, and, looking over his
shoulder, whom should he see but Billy Birch himself, leaning against
a chestnut tree, and looking as if he were angry enough to bite in two
a hoe handle.

What on earth the man was doing there, history does not inform us,
though it used to be more than hinted among the younger citizens in
that neighborhood, that he was prowling about in those woods as a spy
on the movements of the boys. They said he was just the man for such
business.

Moses did not like the appearance of the face that was lowering on
him; and, although he was innocent of the slightest intention of doing
any harm on the man's premises, he thought it would be safer for him
to walk off than it would be to stay there. So he leaped from the
fence, and began, leisurely, to walk home.

"Stop, you young heathen!" said Billy Birch.

The little fellow did stop, and stood as still as the old chestnut
tree, against which the lord of those woods was leaning.

"What are you _munching_ there, sir?"

Moses, having no suspicion at all that he had been doing any harm to
the estate of the old man, replied, frankly and plainly, that he was
eating birch.

"Aha!" said the farmer, "you are, eh? I'll teach you to eat my birch.
I'll give you as much birch as you will want for a