able to flutter a few yards farther, until they had led us about a
quarter of a mile from the nest; then, suddenly getting well, they
quietly flew home by a roundabout way to their precious babies or
eggs, o'er a' the ills of life victorious, bad boys among the worst.
The Yankee took particular pleasure in encouraging us to pursue them.

Everything about us was so novel and wonderful that we could hardly
believe our senses except when hungry or while father was thrashing
us. When we first saw Fountain Lake Meadow, on a sultry evening,
sprinkled with millions of lightning-bugs throbbing with light, the
effect was so strange and beautiful that it seemed far too marvelous
to be real. Looking from our shanty on the hill, I thought that the
whole wonderful fairy show must be in my eyes; for only in fighting,
when my eyes were struck, had I ever seen anything in the least like
it. But when I asked my brother if he saw anything strange in the
meadow he said, "Yes, it's all covered with shaky fire-sparks." Then I
guessed that it might be something outside of us, and applied to our
all-knowing Yankee to explain it. "Oh, it's nothing but
lightnin'-bugs," he said, and kindly led us down the hill to the edge
of the fiery meadow, caught a few of the wonderful bugs, dropped them
into a cup, and carried them to the shanty, where we watched them
throbbing and flashing out their mysterious light at regular
intervals, as if each little passionate glow were caused by the
beating of a heart. Once I saw a splendid display of glow-worm light
in the foothills of the Himalayas, north of Calcutta, but glorious as
it appeared in pure starry radiance, it was far less impressive than
the extravagant abounding, quivering, dancing fire on our Wisconsin
meadow.

Partridge drumming was another great marvel. When I first heard the