In the Forest | Page 3

store of nuts was put in the drawer; all his wants were well supplied,
and Lady Mary watched the catching of the little animal with much
interest. Great was the activity displayed by the runaway squirrel, and
still greater the astonishment evinced by the Governor's little daughter
at the flying leaps made by the squirrel in its attempts to elude the grasp
of its pursuers. "It flies! I am sure it must have wings. Look, look, nurse!
it is here, now it is on the wall, now on the curtains! It must have wings;
but it has no feathers!"
"It has, no wings, dear lady, but it has a fine ridge of fur that covers a
strong sinew or muscle between the fore and hinder legs; and it is by

the help of this muscle that it is able to spring so far and so fast; and its
claws are so sharp, that it can cling to a wall or any flat surface. The
black and red squirrels, and the common gray, can jump very far and
run up the bark of the trees very fast, but not so fast as the flying
squirrel."
At last Lady Mary's maid, with the help of one of the housemaids,
succeeded in catching the squirrel and securing him within his cage.
But though Lady Mary tried all her words of endearment to coax the
little creature to eat some of the good things that had been provided so
liberally for his entertainment, he remained sullen and motionless at the
bottom of the cage. A captive is no less a captive in a cage with gilded
bars and with dainties to eat, than if rusted iron shut him in, and kept
him from enjoying his freedom. It is for dear liberty that he pines and is
sad, even in the midst of plenty!
"Dear nurse, why does my little squirrel tremble and look so unhappy?
Tell me if he wants anything to eat that we have not given him. Why
does he not lie down and sleep on the nice soft bed you have made for
him in his little chamber? See, he has not tasted the nice sweet cake and
sugar that I gave him."
"He is not used to such dainties, Lady Mary. In the forest he feeds upon
hickory-nuts, and butternuts, and acorns, and beech-mast, and the buds
of the spruce, fir and pine kernels, and many other seeds and nuts and
berries that we could not get for him; he loves grain too, and Indian
corn. He sleeps on green moss and leaves, and fine fibres of grass and
roots, and drinks heaven's blessed dew, as it lies bright and pure upon
the herbs of the field."
"Dear little squirrel! pretty creature! I know now what makes you sad.
You long to be abroad among your own green woods, and sleeping on
the soft green moss, which is far prettier than this ugly cotton wool. But
you shall stay with me, my sweet one, till the cold winter is past and
gone, and the spring flowers have come again; and then, my pretty
squirrel, I will take you out of your dull cage, and we will go to St.
Helen's green island, and I will let you go free; but I will put a scarlet
collar about your neck before I let you go, that if any one finds you,
they may know that you are my squirrel. Were you ever in the green
forest, nurse? I hear papa talk about the 'Bush' and the 'Backwoods;' it
must be very pleasant in the summer to live among the green trees.

Were you ever there?"
"Yes, dear lady; I did live in the woods when I was a child. I was born
in a little log-shanty, far, far away up the country, near a beautiful lake
called Rice Lake, among woods, and valleys, and hills covered with
flowers, and groves of pine, and white and black oaks."
"Stop, nurse, and tell me why they are called black and white; are the
flowers black and white?"
"No, my lady; it is because the wood of the one is darker than the other,
and the leaves of the black oak are dark and shining, while those of the
white oak are brighter and lighter. The black oak is a beautiful tree.
When I was a young girl, I used to like to climb the sides of the steep
valleys, and look down upon the tops of the oaks that grew beneath,
and to watch the wind lifting the boughs all glittering in the moonlight;
they looked like a sea of ruffled green water. It is very solemn, Lady
Mary, to be in the woods by night, and to hear no sound but the cry of