unate dog died after three or four hours' great suffering, and
was buried the next day at the foot of a tree in the forest. His loss
was especially felt by George, who busied himself for some hours in
raising a little mound over the grave, and then fencing it round, as a
mark of esteem, he said, for a friend.

Meanwhile the summer was slipping fast away, and October came, bringing
with it cool weather and changing leaves. The woods soon looked like
great gardens, filled with giant flowers. The maple became a vivid
scarlet, the chestnut orange, the oak a rich red brown, and the hickory
and tall locust were variegated with a deep green and delicate yellow.
Luxuriant vines, laden with clusters of ripe grapes, twined around and
festooned the trees to their summits, while the ground beneath was
strewn with the hard-shelled hickory-nut and sweet mealy chestnut, which
pattered down in thousands with the falling leaves.

It was at day-break on one of the brightest and mildest mornings of this
delightful season, that the family were awakened by the shouts of Tom,
who was already up and out of doors, setting the pigs, which were his
particular charge, free for their daily rambles in the forest.

"Oh, Uncle John!" he cried, running in for his gun, "do get up: there
are such lots of pigeons about! Flock upon flock! you can hardly see the
sun!"

Every one hastily dressed and rushed out--it was indeed a wonderful
sight which presented itself. The heavens seemed alive with pigeons on
their way from the cold north to more temperate climates; they flew,
too, so low, that by standing on the log-house roof one might have
struck them to the earth with a pole. Millions must have passed already,
when there approached a dense cloud of the birds, which seemed to
stretch in length and breadth as far as eye could reach. It formed a
regular even column--a dark solid living mass, following in a straight
undeviating flight the guidance of its leader. The sight was so exciting
that Mr. Lee and Uncle John ran for their rifles as Tom had done, and
opened a destructive fire as it passed over.

The ground was soon covered with the victims, and the sportsmen still
seemed intent on killing, as if they thought only of destroying as many
as possible of the crowded birds, when Mrs. Lee called to them to
desist.

"There are more of the pretty creatures already slain," she said, "than
we can eat,--it is a shocking waste of life!"

"And see, Tom," cried