e, for he made up to these eagerly as if to tell them his
troubles; but the hens knew not ducks; they withdrew suspiciously,
then assumed a threatening attitude, till one old "dominic" put up
her feathers and charged upon him viciously.

Again he tried to make up to them, quacking softly, and again he
was repulsed. Then the cattle in the yard spied this strange
creature and came sniffing toward it, full of curiosity.

The drake quickly concluded he had got into the wrong place, and
turned his face southward again. Through the fence he went into a
plowed field. Presently another stone fence crossed his path;
along this he again turned toward the highway. In a few minutes
he found himself in a corner formed by the meeting of two stone
fences. Then he turned appealingly to me, uttering the soft note
of the mallard. To use his wings never seemed to cross his mind.

Well, I am bound to confess that I helped the drake over the
wall, but I sat him down in the road as impartially as I could.
How well his pink feet knew the course! How they flew up the
road! His green head and white throat fairly twinkled under the
long avenue of oaks and chestnuts.

At last we came in sight of the home lane, which led up to the
farmhouse one hundred or more yards from the road. I was curious
to see if he would recognize the place. At the gate leading into
the lane he paused. He had just gone up a lane that looked like
that and had been disappointed. What should he do now? Truth
compels me to say that he overshot the mark: he kept on
hesitatingly along the highway.

It was now nearly night. I felt sure the duck would soon discover
his mistake, but I had not time to watch the experiment further.
I went around the drake and turned him back. As he neared the
lane this time he seemed suddenly to see some familiar landmark,
and he rushed up it at the top of his speed. His joy and
eagerness were almost pathetic.

I followed close. Into the house yard he rushed with uplifted
wings, and fell down almost exhausted by the side of his mate. A
half hour later the two were nipping the grass together in the
pasture, and he, I have no doubt, was eagerly telling her the
story of his adventures.

II

AN ASTONISHED PORCUPINE

One summer, while three young people and I were spending an
afternoon upon a mountaintop, our dogs treed a porcupine. At my
suggestion the young man climbed the tree--not a large one--to
shake the animal down. I wished